The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea
by Dizzy Pilot
Summary: Adorable, cosy night time shenanigans with MoArry. Larry's always wanted to nuzzle the back of Moe's neck, where the short, dark hairs lay all soft and stubbly. Things move on from there. Chapter 6 contains slash. **MOVIE VERSE!**
1. Chapter 1

**My first MoArry fic! (Yays! Join me in a dance!) Hopefully not my last, either.**

**This is Moe and Larry from the 2012 movie, _not_ the originals. ZOMG. I couldn't do this to the originals, lol. Moe would slap me senseless for starters.**

**The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea**

**(Rated M)**

The three bumbleheads were asleep. In the same bed. It was something they did all the time- having grown up together from babies, they didn't know any different. At least, up until now they hadn't known any different.

But times were changing.

Larry Fine lay wide awake on his right side staring miserably at the back of Moe Howard's head. Moe was also on his right side, and therefore facing away from Larry, towards the door. Behind Larry, Curly Howard grunted and snuffled and occasionally whined and kicked his leg like a big dreaming puppy.

Somehow Larry always ended up in the middle, bracketed by the two Howard brothers. Men who were bigger and bolder and more confident in every way than he was. Curly was a numbskull of the highest order but he was so carefree and unselfconscious about it. And Moe-

Well, there were no words to describe Moe that seemed to fit. You could call him bossy, you could call him bad-tempered, irascible, cranky, moody and fidgety, but he wasn't just that. Not like Curly, who was a dimwit, and a dimwit he would always be. For starters, Moe was surprisingly handsome and possessed an incredible amount of depth if you were willing (or brave enough) to look past the grumpy, scowling, beetle-browed exterior. Sometimes those depths were murkier than the ocean after a tropical storm. You couldn't always fathom what was going on behind those chocolate brown eyes- and if you tried looking, you were more than likely to be slapped soundly across the chops for your troubles.

Larry stared longingly at Moe's hair. Moe had such thick, dark glossy hair, so completely different to Larry's ginger frizz. 'Fuzzball' was what Moe always called him. Larry's red hair curled and twisted and got into knots and there was no point in even combing it because the teeth of the comb always snapped off. Whereas Moe's hair was always jet black, shiny and flat and his bangs were so thick and glossy. Just right for running your fingers through...

Larry longed to rub his face and lips against the back of Moe's head where the hairs were shortest. Moe kept his bangs long and shaved the rest of his hair below his ears as close to the neck as he could. After a couple of weeks those short hairs would be soft and fuzzy, glinting in the light, just asking to be kissed and nuzzled. Sometimes when Moe was frustrated at something he'd rub his own hand over those short hairs, as though comforting himself. Larry would die a little inside, watching Moe's fingers caressing his own neck. How could one man be so lucky as to make love to himself without even knowing!

Tonight the hair on the back of Moe's neck was looking sweeter and more inviting than ever. Larry was tired of being the Stooge in the middle. The one being kicked and drooled on by Curly sleeping like a frisky dog. It was about time he rewarded himself for always ending up with the short straw.

Larry snuggled up against Moe, daring to spoon the leader of the Stooges in his sleep. Moe mumbled, but he didn't awaken or stir. They were all wearing pajamas, as they always did, and Larry waited a couple of minutes to readjust himself to this new position in their bed.

When he had plucked up enough courage, Larry put his lips gently against the back of Moe's neck. As soon as he felt those short, jet black bristles touch his lips, a surge of electricity sizzled through his whole body. Moe's skin was hot above his pajama collar. The soft, downy hair felt like suede against Larry's lips. Moe murmured again, but he remained fully asleep. Larry lay there, quietly holding his breath, his mouth resting gently against Moe's neck.

After another few moments, and realising how deep in slumber Moe was, Larry began to gain confidence. He opened his mouth and stroked his lips all over Moe's neck, lightly running them over the short fuzzy hairs, breathing in the warm, manly scent of Moe and his pajamas that smelled of laundry detergent.

"Mmm, yeah," Moe mumbled, suddenly.

Larry froze in the middle of kissing Moe's neck, his pink lips open in an O shape against his leader's skin. He blinked his blue eyes and waited. Nothing further happened, so he began kissing Moe's neck again. After another moment or two, Moe twitched under the bedclothes and let out another sigh.

"'S real nice, cutie pie," he garbled, sleepily.

Larry tensed, expecting a slap which never came.

"Aww, baby, why'd you stop?" Moe murmured.

"'m sorry," Larry apologised. Gleefully he started kissing Moe's neck with more confidence than ever, now he knew that Moe was enjoying it. Enjoying it! It was like Larry's birthday and Christmas had all come at once. He touched Moe's neck with the tip of his tongue and stroked it through those short, fuzzy hairs. Moe spoke again, and Larry could hear the smile in the Howard boy's voice.

"Aw, honey pie. You feel so good..."

"You like this, don't'cha, Moe?" Larry grinned, nibbling and sucking tenderly on Moe's warm and so desirable neck.

"Mmmmm. Yeahhhh, I..." Suddenly, at the sound of Larry's voice, Moe went quiet. Larry tensed, for real this time. "Honey?" Moe inquired softly.

"Uh...yeah, angel?" Larry said, nervously.

Moe loomed up out of the bed on his elbow and slowly turned over three quarters of the way so that he could see who was behind him. When his sleepy brown eyes met Larry's scared blue ones, Moe's face visibly changed colour- from normal flesh tone, to white, to slightly gray and then almost purple. On seeing that it was Larry who had been sucking so deliciously on his neck, Moe's rage made him tremble. He rolled over almost on top of Larry, pinning the hapless fuzzball into the mattress and raising his fist above Larry's face. "What's the idea?" he hissed like an angry cat, trying to contain his rage at least enough not to wake up the slumbering, snoring Curly. "Tryin' ta make me think you were a dame!"

"I wasn't tryin' ta make you think that, Moe!" Larry pleaded. "I wasn't, I swear!"

Moe sneered down into the porcupine's face. "Then what _were _you tryin' to do, Romeo?" he growled, his face just inches from Larry's.

"Nothin', Moe, nothin'!" Larry knew he was starting to sound like a whiny kid. Moe's expression turned to one of disgust.

"Oh? You were kissing and licking my neck and you weren't tryin' to do nothin'? Larry, I'm disappointed in you. Why you always got to try and worm yourself outta trouble? Why can't you own up and accept your punishment like a man?" Moe put his finger under Larry's nose and flicked upwards. Larry instantly got the urge to sneeze. Moe watched in delight as the bushy-haired Stooge's face contorted as he tried to stop the sneeze from blasting out and waking Curly.

"You're a lost cause, porcupine," Moe laughed softly. "Without me you'd be wanderin' around in the world without even a pair o' boots to keep ya feet warm. Now pipe down and let me get back to sleep." Moe rolled off Larry and resumed his position in the bed. But the sight of the short hairs on the back of his neck was too irresistible to Larry. He'd already had a taste and he wanted...no, he _needed_, more. Without even caring what Moe's reaction would be, Larry once again pressed his mouth against Moe's neck and licked the bowl haired Stooge's skin with the tip of his hot, wet tongue.

"Dammit, porcupine," Moe hissed. "What the...?!"

Larry just ignored him now. He tickled Moe's hair with his nose, breathed warmly against Moe's scalp. "You smell like sarsaparilla," Larry sighed.

"That a compliment or what?" Moe grunted, squirming under Larry's gentle ministrations.

"It is if you like sarsaparilla," Larry giggled.

"You like sarsaparilla?" Moe asked, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice.

"I love it," Larry nodded.

"I don't know if I oughta be flattered or not," Moe reasoned. By now his voice had lost its harsh, sharp edges and was now low and husky, letting Larry know that he was actually beginning to enjoy the tender kisses Larry was planting just above the neckline of his pajamas.

"Be flattered," Larry smiled. "I meant it in a nice way."

"I guess," said Moe. "Beats bein' told I smell like a skunk, anyway."

"Even skunks smell nice to other skunks," Larry said, closing his eyes and filling his lungs with the warm scent of Moe.

Moe reached around and found Larry's hand with his. The leader of the Stooges twined his fingers through Larry's and pulled Larry's hand around to his front. Larry smiled to himself, now that his arm was firmly around the object of his desire.

"What's changed your mind?" Larry asked. "A few moments ago you were ready to brain me!"

"Yeah, well...consider yaself on reprieve. It's late and I'm tired and I don't want to wake the flathead."

"Then why ya holdin' my hand?" Larry persisted.

"So that if ya try anythin' funny, I can break your fingers," Moe deadpanned.

Larry grinned to himself. "I bet you would, too, ya big bully."

Moe's other hand came round the side of his head and slapped Larry on the cheek but due to the angle of his arm and the fact that the bowl head Stooge was still half-asleep, it wasn't much of a slap, more of a light swat, which Larry took to mean a sign of grudging affection.

Moe settled down again onto his side and made contented noises with his lips as his head sank back onto the pillow. Larry snuggled closer, happily spooning his leader with the whole length of his body. He rested his chin in the crook of Moe's neck, his nose planted just below Moe's earlobe in that soft, vulnerable little spot that people didn't really take any notice of until they were in bed with someone and realised just how much they wanted to kiss it. He breathed softly through his nose, sending tiny puffs of air over Moe's skin, making the bowl head tremble once or twice. After a couple of sweet moments nuzzling those velvety short hairs, Larry sighed gently against the back of Moe's head. "When was the last time a dame did this to you anyway?" he murmured, cheekily.

"Mind ya own business, Fuzzhead," Moe grumbled.

"Oh, that long ago, eh," Larry chuckled. He flicked out the moistened pink tip of his tongue and caught Moe's earlobe with it.

"Christ..." Moe muttered.

"I didn't think you were religious," Larry whispered. "Not after all those nuns."

Moe leaned his head back, allowing Larry to take his full earlobe into his hot, sweet mouth. Moe groaned quietly. His hand tightened around Larry's under the blankets, clutching both their hands to his chest. Larry could feel a slight tremor in Moe's grip. He hoped, no, he suspected, it was a tremor of desire. After all, it was a warm, Spring night.

The bowl head and the fuzzball were now as close as they could be together with their pajamas on. Moe with his head tipped back on the pillow, his neck vein visibly pulsing, and Larry with his mouth on Moe's throat, working his fingers gently inside Moe's pajama top and onto his smooth, warm, naked chest. Moe wriggled in the bed, instinctively pushing his ass back against Larry's groin. Larry felt himself going hard.

Larry skimmed his hand down Moe's stomach and into the waistband of the bowl head's pajamas, making Moe squirm his hips and whimper something inaudible under his breath. What Larry found down there was something he didn't expect. Moe was burning up and fully erect, even harder than Larry himself was. His rock hard member was more than a handful and Larry's fingers closed around it greedily. "What gives, Moe?" the fuzzhead asked. "I thought you were gonna break my fingers if I tried anything funny. So what's with the 4th of July flagpole here?"

"Don't flatter yourself, porcupine," Moe drawled. "I got a head start from when I thought you were a dame."

Larry snorted back a gulp of laughter in case Curly heard and woke up. "Dames," he grinned. "What d'you know about 'em. I bet you don't even know how to kiss."

Moe harrumphed, insulted. "And you do?"

"I bet I know better than you."

"I betcha don't."

"Try me."

Moe grunted softly. He rolled onto his back and settled down into the mattress. His thick, dark bangs were adorably messed up and he looked in dire need of a shave. His deep brown eyes began traveling slowly over every inch of Larry's face. Larry wondered what he was thinking. Did Moe think he was handsome? Larry sighed inwardly. Probably not. And even if he did, their leader would never in a million years admit it. He gazed back at Moe and almost began drooling at the thought of kissing those slightly smirking lips.

"You could pass for a dame, ya know that, you lunkhead? You got a soft look about you."

Larry didn't know quite how to take that comment but Moe was smiling so it must have been a joke, Larry figured. He knew he had crazy, curly red hair and soft pink lips, and okay maybe sometimes he laughed a bit high pitched like a girl. But he was all guy, and the throbbing flagpole in the front of his own pants was more than the proof he needed.

"So...you okay with kissin' me?" Larry teased, leaning his forearm on Moe's chest.

Moe shrugged. "Beggars can't be choosers. Right, porcupine?"

"I dunno," Larry smiled. "I've met some pretty choosy beggars in my time." He leaned down even closer, casting a dark shadow across Moe's face.

"Oh, man of the world, eh," Moe chuckled. "Remind me to slap ya when I wake up."

Just as Larry closed his eyes he saw Moe close his too, but not all the way- there were still two slivers of warm, chocolate brown gazing interestedly through the bowl head's eyelashes as Larry gently, finally, touched his leader's lips with his.

Time stood maddeningly still as Larry anticipated Moe's shout of disgust and a ringing slap across the ear. But nothing happened- nothing bad, anyway. Moe just lay there, breathing deeply through his nose, his lips yielding ever so slightly as Larry pressed in on top of him. Soon the two Stooges were engaged in full mouth on mouth contact, and Larry lost himself in the feel of Moe's stubbly chin scratching against his.

Moe opened his mouth and his lips began to take possession of Larry's. It was no less than Larry had expected from a born leader like Moe, and way more than he had dared to hope for. A warm, rough hand worked its way up out of the blankets and cupped Larry's jaw. Larry moaned softly. Moe stroked the side of Larry's face and pulled gently down on Larry's chin with his thumb, causing Larry's mouth to open yet further. It was all Larry could do not to ejaculate inside his pants when Moe slid his hot, probing tongue all the way into Larry's eager, welcoming mouth. The kiss deepened and became wet and hungry. Moe lifted his head off the pillow as though determined to cram as much tongue into Larry's mouth as possible, holding Larry still by the back of the neck. The porcupine eagerly wound his fingers through Moe's glossy, jet black bangs, something he'd wanted to do for more years than he cared to remember. As the kiss got hotter and hotter, Larry couldn't help rubbing himself against Moe under the blankets, his rigid pole colliding with Moe's rigid pole through both sets of pajama bottoms.

Moe bit down gently on Larry's lower lip. Larry yelped and responded by pushing his erection hard down onto Moe's, grinding himself onto his leader, the man he had wanted for so long.

"Mmm...get'n frisky, eh," Moe mumbled. He pushed his free hand into Larry's pajama pants and grabbed him firmly without so much as a by-your-leave. "Hey. I wonder what'd happen if I pulled this. Maybe you'd start singing, huh? I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy?"

"Moe, oh god, Moe...quit it willya," Larry gasped, squirming and wriggling as Moe stroked him harder and faster.

"Quit it? You sure?"

"No...I mean yes...I mean...oh god, what if Curly wakes up..."

"We'll tell the bubblehead he can't join in." Moe laughed throatily, gazing up at Larry's contorting expressions as he brought the fuzzhead closer and closer to sweet release.

Larry collapsed on top of Moe, trying to stop the cascade of erotic sensations from overwhelming him as Moe kept fondling and stroking and sliding his hand all around his crown jewels. The bed started rocking while the porcupine rolled and undulated in ecstasy on top of Moe who lay beneath him with one hand thrust down his pants.

"I..I thought we was just meant to be kissin'..." Larry groaned, huskily.

"Ain't you a grown boy?" Moe teased, breathing hard now with the exertion. "Don'cha know what kissin' leads to?"

Larry buried his face in the heat of Moe's neck. This was all beyond his wildest dreams and in fact he wondered if maybe he was dreaming. Any minute now he'd wake up and find he was humping the pillows while Moe and Curly stood at the foot of the bed, watching him and laughing.

"You like this, don'tcha Larry?" Moe sang in a soft voice, mimicking the way Larry had said the same thing to him earlier.

"Oh goddd...oh _yeah_..." Larry's voice came out in a strangled rasp against Moe's neck. He pumped his hips into Moe's hand over and over and suddenly, without warning, he came all over Moe's fingers. The bed rocked violently and Curly nearly fell out of the other side. The bald dimwit whined like a dog and snapped his teeth together before settling down into another deep cycle of sleep, completely unaware that his two frisky compadres were engaged in sexual misconduct right beside him.

"Ew," grunted Moe. "You are like, _sooo_ disgusting, dude." He pulled out his sticky hand and stared at the pearly fluid coating his fingers, pressing his fingertips together a few times, watching the sticky strands as they stretched out. He even brought his fingers to his nose and sniffed them, then screwed up his face like a kid being forced to eat broccoli.

"Can you stop talkin' like you're on Jersey Shore please?" mumbled Larry. "It's such a passion killer."

"Huh? Ain't that why you're stuck on me?" Moe pouted. He wiped his fingers on Larry's pajama bottoms. "Thought my new celebrity status gave you the wood, if y'know what I mean."

Larry pushed himself up onto his elbow, again propped on Moe's chest. His face was shiny, exhausted and happy. His blue eyes burned brightly into Moe's curious brown ones. "You don't have to be a celebrity to give me the wood, Moe," he grinned. "I liked ya even when you was just a regular dumb schmuck."

Moe's head darted up and landed a swift, cute little kiss on Larry's mouth. "There," he chuckled. "That's what I call the 'hit and run'."

Larry smiled. "Kinda like tag. Or kiss chase."

"Kiss chase?" Moe frowned, pretending to be sore. "What do I look like a girl to you?"

Larry giggled. "Yeah. Sometimes. Like, when you look through your eyelashes, like you're doin' right now."

"Get ahhtta here," Moe said, slapping Larry like the touch of a feather on his orgasm flushed face. "You're startin' to sound creepy."

Larry rubbed the end of his nose against Moe's. "You love it," he teased. "But the question is, when do _I_ get to return the favour?"

Moe scowled and shook his dark head on the pillow. "Nothin' doin', fuzzball. I can take care of myself."

Larry giggled. Moe blushed.

"Okay, okay, laugh it up, you chucklehead. I just ain't ready for _that_ just yet. You know me." Moe's eyes twinkled up at Larry. "I've always been better at dishin' it out than takin' it."

"And boy, do you dish it out," Larry giggled, girlishly.

Suddenly the bald woodentop laying in deep slumber beside them let out a loud, wet, snuffling snore and began to fidget in the bed. Outside, dawn was on the horizon. Another Spring day was waiting in the traps, ready to be sprung. "Sssh," Moe grinned, putting a sticky finger on Larry's lips. "The brontosaurus is wakin' up."

Reluctantly, Larry eased himself off of Moe. The two Stooges fixed up their pajamas and straightened the blankets around them. Larry patted down his hair and relaxed back into the bed, feeling like a tiny baby bird in the middle of a nest with its two big, strong brothers. It was a nice feeling- a comforting feeling. He didn't ever want to stop feeling protected by the Howard brothers. He loved Curly like a brother, but he loved Moe like something else. Like somehow Moe had always been a part of him, from even before he was born.

Moe turned back onto his right side, away from Larry. But Larry didn't mind- the moment was over and things were back to normal.

"Go back to sleep, porcupine," Moe mumbled. "And don't forget to remind me to crack ya one in the morning."

"I look forward to it," Larry smiled. "Dyna-Moe."

"There's a party in my pants tonight," Moe replied, and the two knuckleheads snuggled up in the blankets and laughed themselves softly back to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**This was only going to be one chapter. But what the heck, if I'm going to write M rated Stooge fics I may as well write one with chapters, if only for my own amusement. (But hopefully you will like it too :-)) **

**There's no sex in this chapter either. Just kissing. I'm kind of going for the build up. ^_^**

**Again, just to be on the safe side so there's no confusion, this fic is based on Moe and Larry from the movie. **

**For ggirl1710- thanks for corrupting me XD**

Larry felt very different the next morning. He found it hard to look Moe in the eye, even though they'd fallen back to sleep laughing and giggling like two best girlfriends having a sleepover. He got the impression, as he watched Moe stomping around the room complaining because he couldn't find his razor, that Moe didn't want to acknowledge what had happened between them during the early hours of that morning. That Moe possibly had put it out of his mind altogether, or had pushed the memory into a compartment inside his head and locked it firmly away. The trouble was, Larry couldn't do that. He didn't want to forget how it had felt to kiss (and be kissed by) the man he had lusted after for so long. The crazy, insane leader of the Stooges who dealt out slaps like candy and made you thank him for it while he pinned you to the mat with those burning brown eyes of his.

"Give me that, you knucklehead!"

Moe's harsh growl sent a shiver down Larry's spine. The bowl headed Stooge had confronted Curly over by the sink and was demanding his razor back. Curly was using the razor to shave his bald dome and did not want to give it up that easily.

"Get your own!" Curly whined. "Hmmmmm!"

"That _is _my own!" Moe yelped, slapping his hand across the back of Curly's head. He wrestled the razor out of Curly's hand and pushed Curly away from the mirror. "What is this, a beauty parlor?" he grumbled. "You've had long enough in front of this thing, Cinderella."

Larry watched Moe study his reflection in the chipped, dirty mirror hanging above the chipped, dirty sink of the one room they were all sharing while they tried to earn enough money to get on their feet and rent somewhere bigger. He wondered what Moe saw in the mirror. Did Moe just see another Moe looking back at him, or did he see the insanely attractive man that Larry saw? Moe slapped some shaving foam onto his face, then tilted his chin upwards at a slight angle, selecting the spot where he was to being shaving. He lifted the blade of the razor and angled it towards his cheek. The sun filtered in through the dirty drapes hanging in the window and glinted off the razor blade. Larry was hypnotised. The blade hovered against Moe's tautened skin. Moe's eyes slid sideways and before Larry had a chance to react, Moe had made eye contact with him in the mirror. Larry's stomach flipped and his heart skidded to a halt. His mouth went completely dry. He thought he was going to faint. Even the sound of Curly's non stop whining about his half-shaved head ceased to exist. Moe had caught him staring and now there was going to be trouble.

"Whatcha lookin' at, porcupine?" Moe demanded.

"Nothin', Moe. Just..."

Moe cut him off abruptly. "Nothin' again, eh?" The bowl head's eyes flickered over Larry's face. "For someone always doin' nothin', you look awful busy at it."

"Maybe it's on account of my hair," Larry joked, feebly. He pushed at his bushy locks, feeling like the dumbest cluck in the world under Moe's scrutiny. "You know, Einstein had wacky hair."

A smile appeared under all the shaving foam covering Moe's face. "Einstein, eh. What's two plus two?"

"Four," Larry answered, obediently.

"And what's eight plus sixteen?"

"Um..." Larry tried to think but nothing happened.

"A charlatan, eh? I thought so," Moe sneered, nodding his glossy head in Curly's direction. "You're almost as dumb as he looks."

Moe stopped looking at Larry and resumed looking at himself. He began to shave, raking the glinting blade down his cheek and then flicking the foam and bits of dark stubble all over the sink and the mirror. Larry busied himself with tying his raggedy bootlaces and chancing secret glances at Moe from under his wild, bushy red locks.

"I'm starvin'!" Curly whimpered. "When are we gonna eat?"

"When we've got some food, lamebrain." Moe tilted his head so that he could get at the soft underside of his throat, and there was the warm, pulsating vein that Larry had spent a glorious hour nuzzling and licking last night while Moe either slept or pretended to be asleep, he didn't care which. Larry was so busy watching Moe surreptitiously from under his hair that he failed to realise he'd tied both of his shoes together by the laces. "Maybe you should go shoppin'," Moe continued. "Go get us some eggs."

"Hmmmm!" Curly protested, waving his arm out. "Why always me?"

"Go aaaaannn," Moe rumbled. "And take the fishin' pole with ya, see if you can rustle up a freckled trout or a barracutie."

Curly pulled a face at Moe, but he went over to the corner of the room anyway. There was a fishing pole propped up against the wall and the bald Stooge grabbed it unceremoniously. "I demand a raise!" he bleated, stomping over to Moe, waving the pole in Moe's face. "I'm always doin' the doity woik round here!"

Moe scraped a bladeful of foam off his cheek and flicked it in Curly's eyes. "Get aaaaaaaaht," he growled.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Oooh, woo woo woo woo!" Curly dropped the pole and staggered blindly around the room, milking his 'injury' and bumping into things.

"Whaddaya make of that," Moe wondered aloud, shaking his head. "If he had half a brain he'd be dangerous."

Curly wiped the foam out of his eyes and returned to Moe, leaning right into the bowl head's face. "Oh yeah? Well maybe that explains _you_!" he bellowed in his squeaky high-pitched voice.

Moe's face turned thunderous. He lifted the razor blade, put it to Curly's head, and savagely scraped it from the top of Curly's dome right down the center of his face, taking in his nose, lips and finally his chin. A harsh scraping sound rang out, like sandpaper rubbing over more sandpaper. Curly shrieked like a girl.

"Now go _aaaaan! G_et outta here," Moe snarled. He pushed Curly towards the door and flung the fishing pole at him. "Make yourself useful, ya overgrown billiard ball. I'm tired of bein' the one who does all the work around here!"

Curly turned around in the open doorway and raised his finger, his mouth falling open to say something, but was cut off from view by Moe slamming the door so hard that the window rattled and a chunk of plaster fell off the ceiling. Someone in the neighboring room banged on the wall.

"Hey, you in there! Stop slamming the door, willya! I'm on the nightshift!"

Moe stormed across to the wall in a rage and hammered on it with his fist. "Oh, nightshift worker, eh. Special, are ya?" The man behind the wall began shouting back but the sound of his voice was completely drowned out by the noise Moe was making in retaliation. Finally the man shut up and Moe stopped pounding. "Let that be a lesson to ya, Snoozy," he barked.

Meanwhile, Larry sat at the tiny table like a mouse, not daring to even open his mouth. He was acutely aware of the fact that now it was just him and Moe in the room.

Alone.

Together.

Just him and Moe and the sound of the street coming to life outside.

Moe grabbed a threadbare towel of indeterminate color and wiped all remaining smudges of foam from his face. He inspected his freshly shaved cheeks, turning his head this way and that. Larry watched with barely contained excitement. He loved how Moe's jaw tensed, he went crazy for the muscle that twitched angrily just beneath the skin. Sometimes he felt it was worth making Moe angry just to see the fire burning in his eyes and the muscle twitching in his jaw.

Moe tipped some cheap cologne into the palm of his hand and slapped it on. He winced briefly- the razor blade had not been quite as sharp as it looked, thanks to Curly using it for everything from its intended purpose to a potato peeler and carrot scraper. Nevertheless, with his cheeks all smooth and his bangs combed and glossy and his soft grey shirt not quite buttoned up to the neck, Larry thought Moe Howard was the most attractive and desirable man on earth. He longed to ask Moe if he was thinking about the events of last night. Because he, Larry sure was. He couldn't get them out of his mind.

"You gonna sit there all day, fishface?" Moe said, and Larry realised his mouth had been hanging open.

"No! No, I... I was just getting' up, I..." Larry leapt to his feet, took a step forward and promptly fell flat on his face with a loud bang, making the whole room shake. He waited for the neighbor to thump on the wall, but nothing happened.

Moe pointed at Larry's shoes and the joined laces tying them firmly together. "Nice work, Einstein," he chuckled.

Larry dragged his aching bones into a sitting position. He began picking at his laces, digging into the tight knot with his fingernails. "Guess I was too distracted by Curly," he mumbled, embarrassed. As he hunched over, working at the knot, he was aware of Moe's legs and feet coming over to stand in front of him. Moe's shoes were as old as Larry's, but he'd polished them to a nice shine and the effort he'd put into making them presentable put Larry's scuffed and battered old boots to shame.

"Curly, huh," the head Stooge murmured.

Larry said nothing. His hands began to shake slightly.

Moe hitched his pants legs and dropped to a squatting position in front of Larry. Dancing lights appeared in the periphery of Larry's vision as his heart began to race.

"Lemme see those," Moe said, kindly.

"It's okay, I..."

"I said lemme see those!" Moe smacked both of Larry's hands out of the way. "That's better," he grumbled. "I don't know why you and bubblehead can't do what you're told the first time."

Larry leaned on his hands and allowed Moe to take over. Because that was what he and Curly always did, wasn't it? They allowed Moe to take over, because the consequences of _not_ allowing Moe to take over were too dire to contemplate.

The top of Moe's head was very nearly, almost right under Larry's nose. Larry watched the sun come through the window and lay a glossy sheen over Moe's raven locks, the long bangs in front, which were now hanging over Moe's eyes, and the delicious, velvety fuzz at the back of his neck. Larry's lips began to tingle.

"Where d'you learn to tie knots, Fort Knox?" Moe complained.

"No, Fort _Knots_," said Larry, and then giggled loudly and girlishly. Moe lifted his head and waited patiently until Larry had finished. Then he slapped Larry across the face at point blank range.

"What did I tell you about punning?"

"That it wasn't very punny."

Moe slapped him again. "Get used to it," he growled. Then he returned to the matter of Larry's bootlaces. "I'm no surgeon, but this looks like a scissor job to me."

"Oh, no, you can't cut them off, I don't have any others!" Larry whined.

Moe sighed. He went back to work. "Why'd you tie 'em so tight, fuzzball? No-one's gonna steal _these _cloppers."

"I told you, I was distracted." Larry couldn't take his eyes off Moe's fingers. Moe's strong, able fingers...

Moe looked up, directly into Larry's eyes. Taken by surprise, Larry almost yelped out loud. "Oh, yeahhhh," Moe drawled. "'Distracted'. By _Curly_." The tone of Moe's voice said he didn't believe that excuse for a second.

"Yeah, Curly," Larry could only repeat like a parrot.

Suddenly, without warning, Moe leaned forward. His newly shaven face loomed close, still smelling faintly of shaving foam, forcing Larry to lean back on his hands. The bushy haired Stooge swallowed past a sudden dry lump in his throat. The entire world seemed to fade into the background as Moe Howard and his jet black bangs filled his vision, frightening and enticing him at the same time.

"What's so special about Curly, porcupine?" Moe asked, in a mockingly plaintive tone.

"Nothin'," was the only word Larry could come up with, and it came out as a sort of dry squeak.

"Nothin'," Moe repeated. "Always nothin'." He leaned forward a little more with every repeat of the word. "Nothin', nothin', nothin'."

By this time Larry would have been flat on his back if not for one of the table legs. He stared up at Moe from his half flattened position, by now leaning on his elbows instead of his hands. Moe was right over him, burning him with those deep brown eyes of his.

"A-aint'cha gonna fix my boots, Moe?" Larry uttered, feeling the blood drain from his face and head straight for his groin.

"Later," Moe replied, in a low, soft tone. "But first, I'm gonna fix _you_. 'Cause you been looking like a fish wrigglin' around on the end of a hook all morning, and I'm getting' sick o' the sight o' ya sittin' around with ya mouth gapin' open like an imbecile."

"Wh...wha...? Moe, I wasn'..."

Larry didn't get any further with his talking. Moe calmly closed the already tiny gap between them and placed his mouth gently over his porcupine friend's. Larry let out a low groan deep inside his throat. His fuzzy head slid down the table leg until he was flat in his back with his hands waving feebly on either side of Moe.

This wholly unexpected kiss went on. And on. And on. Moe with his weight supported on both hands, his entire body held above Larry's, sometimes making contact, sometimes not, moving away every time Larry arched upwards. Moe's mouth, hot and urgent, his lips teasing, his tongue flicking out and then darting in, away from Larry's. If there had been any doubt last night whether Moe knew how to kiss, that doubt had been well and truly extinguished. Larry found himself wondering, albeit briefly, who else Moe had ever kissed in this way. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a natural talent.

Moe removed his mouth from Larry's with a deliciously soft smacking sound. His hazy, half lidded eyes scorched the back of Larry's brain, leaving a burn mark that Larry knew would never go away. Never _wanted_ to go away.

Larry ran his trembling hands down Moe's sides, feeling the bowl head's warm solidity through the soft fabric of his shirt. He trailed the palms of his hands inwards toward Moe's belt buckle and the front of his pants, but stopped just before they reached their prize. One kiss didn't mean he could just go diving in like this. That was Moe's job, after all, judging by what had happened last night.

"I don't understand," was all he could utter.

"What's there to understand, porcupine?"

Larry gazed up into the depths of Moe's brown eyes. "I don't know what you want from me," he whispered. "I mean, I know how _I _feel, but..."

"Ain't that good enough for ya?" Moe smiled. "Some folks never know how they feel. They spend a lifetime tryin' ta figure out what they want. You should count yourself lucky."

"I don't feel lucky," Larry admitted. "That is, I..."

"Not even right now?" Moe teased. "You mean I got rid of the lunkhead and I came all the way over here to kiss ya for '_nothin_'?"

Larry gulped. Were his ears deceiving him? "You did _what_?" he gasped.

"Sure, you goon," Moe laughed. "Think I'm some kinda dope? I got eggs hidden away. I just wanted rid of the knucklehead for a few minutes. Don't worry, he's probably on his way back right now." Moe lowered his head again. "I'll hear the Jumbotron's footsteps poundin' up the steet, you ain't gotta worry about that."

They began another kiss, even more delicious than the first. Moe's head moved this way and that, his tongue inserted deep inside Larry's mouth like a conquering army. Larry accepted and tried to return the kiss as expertly as he could, but compared to Moe he felt like a rank amateur. He ran his fingers lightly up Moe's back, clutching at the other man's shoulderblades, wondering if his hands would ever stop shaking, wondering if he'd ever be able to convince himself that Moe was doing anything but teasing him, leading him on for his own amusement.

In the middle of this explosion of sensations, there was a sudden loud crash on the door. Moe moved faster than Larry had ever seen him move in all the years they'd known each other. The bowl head was up and off him before Larry even had time to blink, leaving the porcupine flat out on his back with his kiss-bruised lips wide open and arms up in the air, embracing the invisible man.

"Dammit, what the -?" the chief Stooge appeared uncharacteristically flustered, running his hands through his thick, raven hair and adjusting the front of his pants so that his pride and joy wouldn't show too much. "Who's there?" he yelled at the door, then back to Larry in an urgent whisper, "get up off the floor and straighten yaself out, you moron!" He grabbed Larry's arm as Larry began getting up.

"I can do it!" Larry whined, upset that another magic moment was over.

"Open up in there!" shouted a gruff voice from outside. "I've had a complaint about the noise in the apartment!"

"It's the landlord," Larry hissed.

"How dare he!" Moe snarled.

"Yeah! How dare he complain about the noise!"

"No," said Moe, "how dare he call this an apartment!"

"Oh, yeah," Larry agreed.

Moe reached the door in four angry strides and yanked it open. The landlord's fist was poised for another knocking and he bopped Moe squarely on the nose. Moe's face turned furious. "Assaultin' a tenant, eh?" he thundered.

"Some tenant you are," the landlord responded. "I've had reports of _someone _pounding on the walls and waking up people on the nightshift."

"Tell nightshift boy I'll pound _him_," Moe retorted.

"I'll do no such thing!" the landlord grumbled. "At least he pays his rent on time! If you boys don't keep it down from now on, you're out! Do you hear me? O- U- T, OUT!"

At that moment, with impeccable timing as ever, Curly and his flat feet came banging up the narrow stairwell. He was also singing loudly off key. "Oh, hiya Mr. Bricket," he said brightly. "What brings you to our humble abode?"

"I'm warning you," the landlord said to Moe, ignoring Curly altogether. "No more noise!" As he passed Curly, the bald Stooge waved his arm out and went "Hmmmmmmmmmm!"

"Why, I'll show that interferin'..." Moe stomped to their neighbor's door and knocked on it as politely as he could. "Hey, nightcrawler," he growled. "Open the hatch!"

The nightshift worker opened the door warily. He was wearing a long old fashioned nightshirt that reached almost to his ankles. Moe looked him up and down. "I wondered where our curtains had gotten to," he observed. "Anyway, what's all this about complainin' to Bricket? Can't you keep your nose out of trouble?"

The neighbor started blustering. "Now look here!"

"See this?" said Moe, holding out his fist. Then he slapped down hard on it and wheeled it up and over onto the man's head with a loud bop. "That's for being a tattletale." Then he tweaked the man's nose around between his first and second finger until the man's head was almost sideways. "That's for bein' a snitch." Then finally he turned the man around and booted the poor guy up the backside, sending him flying back into the darkness of his room. "Get back to Middle Earth, you ratchet head." Moe shut the neighbor's door firmly behind him and dusted his hands together. He looked over at Curly. "What are you gapin' at? If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be in this trouble in the first place."

"Why me?" the bald Stooge pouted.

"Never mind." Moe noticed the bag of groceries Curly was holding. "Shopliftin' again, eh?"

Curly shrugged. "I prefer to call it 'redistribution of goods'."

Moe slapped him. "Who told you to be socially aware. That kind of thing can get you arrested."

Moe and Curly both went back into their own room. Larry was still standing in the same spot where Moe had left him, but at least he had managed to get rid of the flushed look on his face and the tent in his trousers that had threatened to send him plummeting to the floor in a dead faint from loss of blood to the head.

"What's with him?" Curly asked. "He looks like he's seen a ghost!"

"Yeah," grinned Moe. "Maybe he had a tussle with an incubus." He went over to the small stove that they used for all of their cooking. The stove was well past the prime of its life (which was probably sometime back in 1953, maybe one Tuesday afternoon in August), but once the window was open the smells of hot grease soon left the apartment and a quick wipe of the wall with a damp cloth soon got rid of any lingering aromas of whatever they had managed to scrounge that day, whether it be fish, fowl or beast of the field. Or even baloney and whipped cream.

"C'mon, porcupine, get over here and rustle us up some breakfast," Moe said, hooking his finger at Larry. "I don't know about you, but I'm so hungry I could eat."

Larry, still wrapped in his precious bubble of longing and desire for his leader, and impressed with the way Moe had handled the troublemaking neighbor, could only snap to attention and rush forward, ready to please and obey Moe's every wish.

Sadly, he forgot that his bootlaces were still tied together...


	3. Chapter 3

**Whoops, no s-e-x in this chapter either. Nothing except Moe being a royal pain in the butt...**

The bruise on Larry's nose got bigger and bigger until by the middle of the afternoon he was sporting two lovely black eyes. He sat down on a bench in the park and put his face in his hands, complaining that the hot sun was making his whole head throb.

"Stupid shoelaces," he mumbled. "Why didn't I check to see they were untied first?"

Moe, slightly ahead with Curly, stopped and turned around. For once he didn't make a smart remark, he just stood and looked at Larry with an unfathomable expression on his face.

"Why are we stoppin'?" whined Curly. "It ain't our fault he can't put on his shoes!"

Moe scowled. "You can stop for five minutes, can't you?"

"It's only Larry," Curly responded.

Moe flipped his hand backwards and caught Curly across the cheek with a loud slap. "Wait 'til _you_ need help," he muttered. "Wait 'til no-one will stop for _you_."

"Hmmm!" said Curly, waving his arm out.

"Go ahead if you want," Moe said, and suddenly he reached out and gave Curly a firm push. "Go aaaann. Go feed the ducks, go annoy some kids. Do what you're good at."

Curly fixed Moe with a look of resentment. "You can't tell me what to d..." he started, but Moe slapped the words right off of his lips. "...ooowwww!"

"I can, and I will," Moe grunted. "Now _scram_."

Curly shuffled away, mumbling and muttering like a child who can't get its own way. Moe went over to the bench where Larry was sitting hunched over and clutching his nose. The sun caught in his tangled red locks and turned them aflame with highlights of orange and gold. Moe reached his fingers out as if to ruffle Larry's hair but pulled his hand back quickly, closing his fingers as if the flame of Larry's hair had burned them. Larry was unaware of this gesture. He shuffled along the bench, his eyes cast downwards and sideways, fixed, as they were in the apartment, on Moe's shoes.

Moe parked his butt on the bench next to Larry. The wooden slats were warm from the sun. The lake glittered in the distance and seagulls screamed overhead like cats, or small babies crying. He folded his hands in his lap and stared at them.

"Whaddya want?" said Larry, suddenly.

Moe's eyes widened. "Whaddya mean, whaddya want? What kind of a way is that to talk to a friend who just wants to help?"

"Some friend you are," Larry moaned. "Some _help _you are. This is all your fault."

Moe clenched his jaw. Usually by now he would have already dispensed a slap. He knotted his fingers harder together. "How is it my fault? You're the one who tied your shoes together, you lunkhead."

Larry shook his head, dragged his hands over his hair. It smoothed down for just an instant before springing up again, more bushy than ever, caught by a passing breeze that smelled of freshwater and pond weed. "You know what happened," he said, softly. "You were actin' like nothin' had happened during the night and there I was mindin' my own business. Then you had to come over and start up again. Confusin' me, like y'always do. "

Moe fumed silently. He watched a man walk his dog across the grass. The dog's tail wagged back and forth. The dog looked happy. Unlike Moe. "Now, hold on," he grumbled. "You gonna hate me forever because the _landlord_ interrupted us?"

"Of course I ain't," Larry answered. He still hadn't looked up. "Why would I hate you, Moe? I don't hate anybody."

Moe stared at the back of Larry's head. "Yeah, I know you don't," he uttered, quietly. "Good old Larry Fine, everybody's goddamn friend."

Larry tensed at the bitterness in Moe's voice. He slid even further down the bench until he was almost at the end. "It ain't a crime to like people," he said, clutching his nose in defence, just in case Moe decided to smack it.

"It ain't a crime to _not _like people, either," Moe countered abruptly. "That way you don't get duped."

Larry looked up at last. He took his face out of his hands and glanced sideways at Moe. He couldn't help notice how the sun gleamed off Moe's jet black bangs and accentuated the shadows of his jaw. Moe looked tough. Moe always looked tough. He looked like he could crack a walnut with just his thoughts. "Not everyone's out to dupe you, Moe," he reasoned. "Sometimes things are just what they are. Y'know?"

Moe glanced sideways too. "Someone's gotta be on the lookout," he growled. "If I left everything to you two numbskulls we'd have been put down like sick dogs years ago."

Larry was shocked. "What are you talkin' about? People don't get put down!"

Moe shrugged defensively. "I'm just sayin' we never woulda made it. You know, without _me_. Ya got Curly there, he's so trusting he'd go off with anyone. As for you, you're like a kitten or a puppy, too eager to please." Moe scuffed his heel on the ground. "_Way_ too eager to please."

"I am not!" Larry protested. "And even if I _was_, what of it?"

Moe turned and faced Larry directly. The breeze ruffled his bangs and the sun jabbed his chocolate brown eyes, making him squint. "_What of it_? People take advantage of you, that's what of it! Someone says 'jump', you say, 'how high'. It's demeanin', that's what it is. Where's your dignity? Huh? Where's your damned _dignity_?" His mouth turned down at the corners and he scowled at Larry, awaiting the fuzzball's response.

"Now wait a minute," Larry cried. "What are ya beatin' on me for _this_ time? Don't ya see I got two black eyes because of you? Because _you _came to _me_, and...and..." Larry looked away, his jaw tense. "You _know_ what you came to me for. Moe. Don't make it out to be all my fault. First you say we'd be nowhere without ya. Then ya want to punish us for trustin' ya! How can that be fair, huh, Moe? How can that be fair?"

"A'right, calm down, pinhead," Moe said, gruffly. "Ya want everybody to hear ya?"

Larry got to his feet suddenly. "Yeah! Why not?" he yelled, waving his arms in the air. "Hey, everybody! Ya wanna know about this guy here...ya wanna know what he...?"

Moe leapt up off the bench as if he'd been shot in the ass. He grabbed Larry around the shoulders and clamped his hand hard over Larry's mouth. A passing couple stared at them, caught sight of Larry's black eyes and Moe's angry scowl, and walked on hurriedly, staring straight ahead. "What the hell are ya doing?" Moe seethed, his mouth pressed hotly against Larry's ear. "Are you freakin' crazy? Did the fall break ya brain?"

Larry struggled briefly, a last act of defiance. He briefly considered biting down on Moe's thumb pad but he didn't. He went limp in Moe's arms and shook his head, mumbling something behind Moe's hand. Moe let go.

"Sorry," Larry mumbled. "It's just that you..."

"I don't wanna hear it," Moe snapped. "You drive me insane, you frazzle headed bushbaby." Moe stalked off a ways, flexing and unflexing his fingers, rotating his head and shoulders. Larry rubbed his nose and watched Moe pacing, getting rid of built up tension. Even when he was ranting and raging, Larry thought that Moe was still the most desirable man on earth. A man with passion raging inside him like a volcano ready to blow at any time.

A man impossible to please.

Moe's words had hit him hard. Is that why Moe treated him with so much disgust? Because he thought Larry was making it too easy for him? Larry wanted no trouble from anyone, but maybe Moe saw his affability as a sign of weakness. Maybe Moe hated the way he was always so willing to help out.

Larry rubbed the back of his neck. Moe wasn't a bad guy. Not deep down. Deep down, Moe was a fair man. He wanted the best, not only for himself, but for Larry and Curly too. If only he weren't such a stubborn, hotheaded mule all of the time! What was the point of punishing people for being nice? Surely only bad people deserved punishment. And okay, maybe Larry was sweet and kind and always tried to see the good in everybody. That didn't mean he was a sucker. A pushover. That didn't mean Moe Howard could talk to him and treat him any way he wanted. Hell no!

Larry took in a deep breath, braced himself, and stalked right up to Moe. He stood squarely in front of the boss Stooge and fixed Moe with steely blue eyes. "Do you know how much you just insulted me, Moe?" he said, sharply. "What's the idea of tryin' to ass...assnass...astas...stinate... ruin my whole character? In _public,_ too! What did I ever do to you, except stick by you though thick and thin? And as for last night, _you_ were the one who..."

"A'right! _A'right!_ So I gave you what you wanted last night. But you wanna know why?" Moe stood as tall as he could with his legs apart and thrust his finger in Larry's face. "Because you wouldn'ta _shut up _otherwise! Comin' at me like a dame. Jesus, Larry, you're lucky I didn't pull it off and stick it down ya throat!"

"That's bull_shit_, Moe. You did it because you _wanted_ to." Larry took another deep breath. His nose and eyes throbbed painfully and he was beginning to feel slightly lightheaded. "You know what I oughta do right now, Moe? Want me to show you?"

Without even waiting for Moe's reply, Larry drew back his hand and slapped Moe soundly across the face. Moe's head whipped sideways, his bangs flying. Spittle flew out from between his lips. The blow was so forceful that Moe's cheek went instantly pink, with distinct and separate fingermarks showing up.

"Oh, shit," gasped Larry, immediately regretful. He reached up and tried to pat Moe's face but Moe pushed his arm away. "I didn't mean to hit you _that_ hard!"

Moe blinked and rubbed his jaw. "Sure ya did, porcupine," he muttered. He shook his head like a dog with earache and moved his jaw side to side, checking all his teeth were still there. "Whew! That sure was a blow. Where'd a cream puff like you get the strength from?"

Larry wiggled his tingling fingers. "I guess it just came to me, Moe," he replied. "Years and years of building it up, bein' slapped around and treated like shit by you. Having to listen to you denying everything. I don't know. That's just a _guess_."

"I oughta box you from here to next week," Moe said, sounding surprisingly lighthearted about it. "Believe, me, it'd be a pleasure."

"Try it," Larry replied, defiantly. "Even if I can't hit as hard as you, I'd do my darndest to fight back."

"You'd lose," said Moe, in a warning tone.

"I don't care," Larry retorted. "At least I wouldn't be _trying too hard to please_."

Moe reached his hand out. He placed it gently on Larry's cheek and began to pat it with affection, like a big brother. "I don't know what to make of you, porcupine," he mused out loud. "You're _worse_ than a dame, y'know that? You sure do keep me guessin'." He carried on patting, then he pulled back his hand and instead of the next pat, he dealt Larry a resounding slap that rang out like a whipcrack across the park. "There's somethin' else for you to chew on," he grunted.

Larry fixed Moe with his blackened eyes that burned like fire. His cheek smarted and throbbed. "I ain't chewed on_ nothin' _yet," he said mysteriously, never taking his gaze away from Moe's.

"What's that?" Moe growled. "Your pathetic attempt at fightin' talk?"

"Let's just say, keep your eye on me in bed tonight. I ain't as soft as I look. But then- you already _know_ that."

Moe's brown eyes smouldered. "Don't be so sure of yourself," he growled. "just 'cause I let ya hit me. Don't forget who's in charge here."

"Look at me," Larry said. "I look like I been through a war zone because of you. Black eyes, swollen nose, and still you wanna hit me. There's some serious payback comin' to you, Moe Howard. Some _serious _payback."

Moe clenched his jaw. Larry clenched his. Their eyes met and locked together. The space between them crackled and sizzled with tension. People began making a wide detour around the bench where the two Stooges faced off against each other. Curly reappeared, holding an ice cream cone. He sensed trouble and kept a safe distance, watching his friends while licking his way around the melting ice cream.

"Well, whaddya waitin' for, knucklehead?Why don't you start right now? Huh? C'mon, show me what'cha got." Moe held his hands out, beckoning Larry towards him. "Come annnnn, what are ya, chicken?"

Larry opened his mouth to say something and Moe suddenly darted forward. Larry lifted his arms in defence. The chief Stooge ducked his head under Larry's swinging right arm and and landed a sucker punch straight in the middle of Larry's chest. All the air shot out of Larry's lungs like a balloon exploding and he went down onto the pavement like a sack of potatoes. As he writhed and gasped for breath, Moe came and stood over him, his legs on either side of Larry's waist. "That's what happens when ya wait for the other person to hit first," he rumbled.

"Jesus, Moe," Larry whined, clutching his ribs. "Why ya gotta be so mean? Why? Why ya gotta be so _mean_?"

Moe reached down and grabbed two big handfuls of Larry's shirt. With an almighty grunt, the bowl cut Stooge hauled Larry to his feet, stepping back to let the fuzzball regain his balance. He dusted Larry's back and shoulders, getting rid of gravel, leaves and twigs and what looked like a piece of tacky old chewing gum. Then he placed both hands on Larry's cheeks and pulled the fuzzball's head around to look at him. "Mean?" he growled. "You think I'm mean, you ain't seen mean. That was nothin'. You just got the wind knocked outta your sails. You'll be fine."

Larry couldn't raise his eyes at first. They burned with humiliation and throbbed with the pain of his earlier fall. He was sick of being Moe's punchbag. But maybe he had asked for that last one. If the Stooges had learned anything of their time together on this earth, it was not to wave a red rag in front of Moe. _Ever. _The bowl head was just too volatile.

"So, are you done playin' in the dirt like a little kid?" Moe asked, in a perfectly reasonable tone of voice. "Can we get on with our day, now?"

"Go to blazes, Moe," Larry whispered. "You know I ain't done with you yet."

Moe held Larry's head fast and leaned in close. His hot breath scorched Larry's lips. "That a threat?" He shook Larry's head to make the fuzzball look at him. "I'm talkin' to ya, porcupine. That a threat? Or a promise?"

"Whatever it sounds like, that's what it is," Larry uttered.

Moe was close enough to kiss. Larry was seriously thinking about it, but then he spotted Curly out of the corner of his eye, staring at them both with an ice cream cone shoved in his mouth. "The kid's back," he said, softly. "He's lookin' at us."

Moe's eyes had gone hazy. With a surge of excitement, Larry realised that it meant Moe was becoming aroused. Moe was still holding his face in both hands. Their mouths were just inches apart. "Moe," the fuzzball whispered.

Moe said nothing. Larry could hear the other man breathing, could feel that breath tickling his nose and mouth. Moe's fingers moved against his face, as though getting ready to pull Larry in for the deepest kiss he'd ever experienced. Some children playing soccer nearby began shouting and yelling over possession of the ball. Somewhere a dog barked, loud and high pitched.

"Moe, c'mon, not in public," Larry pleaded. "Moe, please...I ain't ready for this."

Finally Larry's words got through to Moe's brain. The chief Stooge blinked himself back to life and let go of Larry's head. He stood back quickly, brushed himself down, ran his fingers through his glossy bangs. He dragged both hands down his face and stood silently staring at Larry, and once again Larry found himself wondering just what was going on in his leader's mind.

"You kill me, porcupine, you know that?" Moe's voice was harsh and raspy, as though he'd been interrupted out of some very deep and serious thought process. "You kill me, stone dead. What am I gonna do with ya?"

Larry sighed. He looked over Moe's shoulder and caught sight of Curly finishing off the last of his ice cream cone. Suddenly that was all Larry wanted- an ice cream cone. A nice, normal ice cream cone in the nice, normal park with nice, normal people. So maybe he'd never have the 'nice normal people' – but at least he could have the nice normal ice cream cone. French Vanilla maybe, or Butter Pecan. He didn't care. He just wanted something cold, sweet and refreshing in his mouth. Something to stop him hurting all over, something to stop him feeling like a piece of festering roadkill left out in the sun, skin bubbling beneath sticky, bloody fur. He wiped his smarting eyes, felt how wet they were. He walked towards Curly, and as he passed Moe he deliberately bumped the bowl head's shoulder, pushing him roughly out of the way. "I'm sure you'll think of something," he muttered.


	4. Chapter 4

**Still no s-e-x. But getting closer... :p**

Larry got his ice cream cone. In fact he was surprised when Moe put his hand deep into his pocket and paid for ice cream cones for all three Stooges, including Curly, who'd already had one. Curly's eyes lit up with delight as Moe handed him his second cone, a double scoop concoction of chocolate chip and strawberry cheesecake.

"Woob woob woob woob woob!" the bald Stooge twittered, jumping up and down on the spot.

"Shaddap and eat it before I make ya wear it," Moe huffed. He turned back to the ice cream cart and shoved a small child out of the way. "I ain't done yet," he grumbled. He then asked for a double scoop each of Butter Pecan and French Vanilla. Larry was secretly thrilled that Moe had ordered the same flavours for himself as the ones _he_ wanted. It was like being connected to the chief Stooge somehow. He didn't even know if Moe _liked _Butter Pecan and French Vanilla.

"Here ya go, porcupine." Moe handed Larry his cone. Larry tried not to look eager and grateful as he took the cone from Moe's outstretched hand. He also tried hard not to touch Moe's fingers at the same time, but it was impossible because Moe was clutching the cone like it was a softball bat.

Larry closed his eyes in ecstasy at the first taste of the sweet, refreshing ice cream. A soft sigh of pleasure escaped his lips before he could stop it. He blushed and opened his eyes to find Moe looking at him with undisguised amusement.

"Geez, porcupine, it's just an ice cream cone," Moe laughed. Larry blushed even more furiously, but at the same time his heart soared. It was so nice to hear the grumpy leader of the Stooges laughing for a change. Larry was so heartened that he slid his tongue slowly around the ice cream cone while fixing Moe with a flirty look. The bowl head almost choked on his own ice cream and looked away quickly. Larry smiled to himself, thinking that the back of Moe's neck was beginning to look a little 'sunburned'.

The afternoon passed peacefully. Moe's mood improved even further when two kids aged about thirteen collided with each other while chasing the same frisbee from two different directions. The kids collapsed in a heap, crying and clutching their bleeding noses. Moe bent over double, laughing so hard that Larry had to thump between his shoulderblades when the chief Stooge began coughing. "Did ya see those two morons?" Moe choked, gasping for air as Larry banged on his back. "Ain't it good to see other people doin' dumb things for a change?" The children's parents turned and glared at Moe which just made the bowl head laugh harder.

"You'll get us in trouble," Larry chided with a smile, dragging the cackling bowl head away before the kids' father came over and popped him one.

The Stooges headed on up past the duck pond where kids and dogs were running around causing the feathery waterfowl to flap up into the sky and then skid down along the surface of the water, quacking their annoyance and then swimming over to eat hunks of bread thrown by the very same kids.

"Hey, Moe!" Curly shouted. "Those boids eat better than we do!"

Moe slapped Curly across the back of his solid cranium. "Ungrateful, eh? I don't see those boids eatin' delicious ice cream cones," the chief Stooge grunted.

While Moe and Curly argued, Larry drifted off into a daydream. It wasn't difficult to let his swollen eyes flutter closed as he recalled the way Moe ate his ice cream, the creamy slick of French Vanilla on his lips as he licked the cold sweetness into his hot mouth, the way he squinted into the sun as he concentrated on keeping the sticky substance from melting all over his hand. Larry imagined lifting Moe's hand to his lips and sucking the ice cream from each and every one of Moe's fingers, his tongue lapping slowly and thoroughly all around Moe's fingertips. Lost in thought, he smiled happily at his saucy daydream and didn't realise that the chief Stooge was now standing right beside him.

"Smilin', eh." Moe said softly. Larry's eyes opened abruptly. He swallowed nervously and glanced sideways. "Penny for your thoughts? Or is that too much?"

"Just thinkin'," Larry shrugged. He looked out across the duck pond but the sun shining on the water hurt his eyes so he looked down again, quickly.

"Anything nice?" There was a slight teasing quality to Moe's tone, as if he knew exactly what, and _who_, Larry had been thinking about.

Larry shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. "Maybe."

Moe peered into Larry's face. "Secrets, eh," he murmured.

Larry shook his head. "Not really."

Moe grunted. Then he surprised Larry by reaching up and touching the end of Larry's nose as gently as if it were made of spun glass. Larry shivered at the unexpected touch.

"How's the schnozz?" Moe asked. "Still tender?"

Larry nodded. "Yeah. Feels ten times it's normal size."

"Which ain't exactly little to begin with," Moe chuckled.

"Just...don't tweak, poke, punch or twist it and it'll be okay," Larry heard himself saying. "Likewise, my eyes. In case you hadn't noticed how bad they look and were thinkin' of gougin' 'em out."

"Aw, c'mon porcupine, gimme a break," Moe protested. "What's done is done. I bought ya a make-up ice cream cone, didn't I? Even got ya the same flavours as me."

"Actually Moe, they were _my_ flavours so technically _you_ got the same flavours as _me_," Larry corrected him.

"Stop arguin' while I'm apologizin'," Moe said, not for the first time in his life.

"You're apologizin'?" Larry asked, incredulously. "Should I call the newspaper and get them to put it on the front page?"

"You do and I'll put _you _on the front page," Moe growled. He ripped out a chunk of Larry's frizzy red hair. "'Porcupine Found Dead In Duck Pond'. Cause of death, didn't know when to quit while he was ahead."

Larry rubbed the sore patch on his scalp. Luckily he had so much crazy hair you could never see from where Moe had pulled it out. "When am I _ever_ ahead?" he complained, only half-joking.

"When I let ya," Moe grinned. He thumped Larry soundly on the arm. "Hey, c'mon over here, let's carve our names on that tree."

Larry's eyes flew open, throbbed like billy-o, and then squeezed shut again as he followed Moe across the grass. "What? That's what kids do!" he cried. "Kids and lovestruck teenagers!"

"So, let's be kids!" Moe shouted.

"Aww, Moe. Can't we be lovestruck teenagers?" Larry batted his eyelashes and pouted at Moe like a girl.

Moe slapped Larry soundly on his shiny forehead. "Come aaaaan. I've got my pocketknife. Here, watch this." With a flourish, Moe snapped open his pocketknife and began gouging letters into the nearest tree trunk. His tongue stuck out between his lips as he worked, peeling off whole strands of bark as though he were peeling an orange. Letters began to appear. 'P', then an 'o', then an 'r'.

"Boy, you're a regular Rembrandt," Larry observed.

"Not bad, huh?" Moe licked his lips and hacked another huge chunk out of the tree. The next letters to appear were 'c' and 'u'.

"Heyyy!" Larry protested when he realised what Moe was spelling. "I don't wanna be forever immortalized on a tree as 'Porcupine'!"

"Why not? It's ya name, ain't it?" Moe grinned. He held the knife in both hands, gouging and scraping at the rough bark.

Larry began looking around, nervously. "Should we be doin' this?" he asked. "There's a park ranger over there. I think he's watchin' us."

"So, go sell him a ticket," Moe grumbled. He continued hacking away at the tree, spelling a different word now. 'D', 'y', 'n'...

"Hey! That's not fair, you get to be DynaMoe and I get to be Porcupine," Larry whined.

"Quit cryin'," Moe grunted. "This is a work of art here. Trouble is, you don't appreciate what I do for you." He stood back and gesticulated towards the tree with a flourish. Scrawled untidily in the bark were the words 'Porcupine and DynaMoe 4eva'.

"4 eva?" Larry frowned.

"That's how the kids spell it."

"No kid I know spells it like that."

Moe scowled. "Pedantic, eh. Why, I oughta..."

He was cut off by some sudden angry shouting. The park warden Larry had spotted was running towards them, waving his fist. "Hoy, you vandals! Damaging the trees is not allowed!" the warden hollered. He broke into a run towards them and the two dolts jumped three feet in the air and started running themselves, away from the tree and across the grass.

"What about Curly?" Larry gasped. "We'll lose him!"

"Forget Curly!" Moe said. "Keep runnin', chucklehead!"

Larry followed hot on Moe's heels. They ran past the children's play park where toddlers turned and gaped at them with their little mouths hanging open, they ran past the small kiosk selling sandwiches and drinks and then they sprinted round the far end of the duck lake. Larry's eyes and nose began to pound as hot blood pumped through his veins, and pretty soon the fuzzhead ground to a halt, clutching his face in his hands. Moe carried on running for a while until he realised he was on his own, then he skidded to a stop in the gravel with his arms flailing and turned around. The park warden had long since given up chasing them and Moe jogged back to Larry with a happy smile on his face.

"What'sa matter, ya pinhead? Can't take the pace?" Moe was barely out of breath.

"My eyes!" Larry garbled. "By dose!"

"Lemme see." Moe pulled Larry's hands away from his face. "Oh, yeah. You're glowin' like a signal flare. Ya better sit this one out."

Larry began moaning in pain. "One day I'm gonna die because of you, Moe Howard," he whimpered. "I'm gonna die! Die, die, _die_!"

Moe slapped the back of Larry's head, which only served to push Larry's nose even harder into his own hands, making the poor beleaguered fuzzball squawk like a chicken in pain. "The only thing about you that's dying is your acting," Moe grumbled. "Now come on over here and pipe down. Lemme help ya out."

Once again, Larry found himself obediently following his leader, his poor throbbing eyes fixed to the back of the chief Stooge's head where the glossy black hair was hardly a strand out of place. Moe jumped over a fallen tree log and crunched his way over piles of dead leaves. Soon they were deep inside a small copse of trees, away from the main path, the duck lake, and all the kids, dogs and parents. Once they were completely hidden from view, Moe stopped and turned to Larry.

"Let go of your face," he instructed.

"Why, so you can hit it?" Larry mumbled.

"Yeah," Moe said, scornfully. "So I can hit it!" He reached up and forcibly wrestled Larry's hands away from his throbbing visage. "What'sa matter with you, bunion head? Let go of your face, will ya?"

Larry decided it wasn't worth fighting against Moe again, not after that debilitating sucker punch to the diaphragm earlier. There was no fight left in him. His chest was still sore. His face felt like it was about to explode. Moe was relentless, even in the face of Larry's helplessness. It was best just to ride out whatever it was that Moe had brought him into the trees for.

The last thing he expected was the thing that happened.

Moe let go of Larry's hands, practically throwing them aside, and grabbed the startled porcupine by the head. Before Larry even had time to ask him what was going on, Moe leaned forward and planted his open mouth right on top of Larry's. Larry, taken completely by surprise, stumbled backwards and hit a tree. Moe didn't even flinch, he just went with Larry. Larry's arms waved helplessly in the air before his hands came to rest on Moe's shoulders. The bowl head had him pressed firmly up against the tree now. His mouth was hot and tasted faintly like Butter Pecan and his tongue slid in between Larry's lips and began searching around in his mouth like it owned the place.

"Mmm..._mmm_!" Larry mumbled. He sank against the tree and felt his swollen eyeballs roll back under his eyelids. Moe's kiss was hot and fierce, just like Moe himself. Larry felt the rough bark of the tree scrape brutally against the back of his head. Then, just as Larry thought he might pass out, Moe slowed right down and the kiss turned unbelievably gentle. Murmuring sweet nothings against Larry's lips, Moe slid his hands down Larry's body until he was holding him carefully by the waist. Larry stopped struggling and lifted his arms, wrapping them around Moe's neck. _This is like how a guy kisses a girl,_ he thought, lost in the most exquisite sensations fizzing and sparking through his body. _Oh, Moe. Just say the word and I'll be your girl until the mountains crumble into the sea._

The kiss went on and on. It was as if time stood still out there in the middle of the trees with everything going on around them, outside of their own little bubble. Larry slid his tongue sensuously around the inside of Moe's mouth, tasting sugar cone and pecan nuts on the bowl head's tongue and lips. He decided that Moe was quite possibly the most incredible kisser he'd ever known. Even he hadn't really kissed that many people, Larry still knew that Moe's skills in the field of lip locking were absolutely second to none. He groaned softly. Moe was driving him crazy with this kiss and he didn't ever want it to stop.

At last Moe pulled his head back, breaking that soft, sweet kiss forever. His eyes were glassy, his bangs untidy from where they'd rubbed against Larry's head. Larry wanted to rearrange them with his fingers but he didn't. Even though the bowl head had just kissed him tenderly to within an inch of his life, Larry was still faintly afraid of the chief Stooge.

"Feel better now?" Moe asked, his lips close to Larry's cheek.

Larry went mute. He nodded, and his frizzy mop of hair bobbed back and forth, tickling Moe's face.

"That's good," said Moe. He nuzzled under Larry's earlobe with the tip of his nose. "What you said earlier," he continued, breathing warmly against the side of Larry's neck, making Larry shiver with excitement. "You know...how I better watch out for you in bed tonight?"

Larry swallowed. He wasn't sure what was coming next. "Mm-hmm," was all he could mutter.

"Well, my little fuzzball, I just want you to know that it works both ways." With that, Moe put his mouth against Larry's throat and nipped firmly, leaving Larry in no doubt as to what the chief Stooge meant.

Larry groaned at the feel of Moe's teeth making sharp contact with his skin. He might've known the bowl head wouldn't have let him get away with a statement like that. Moe was always in charge, and there was no point in ever trying to change that. Whatever happened. Moe would always find a way to get back on top. He was a natural born leader- being the boss came instinctively to him. Larry's anger and frustration might give him momentary strength to answer back or retaliate physically, but Moe Howard would always, always emerge the winner.

But wasn't that why Larry loved him? Not just as a fellow Stooge, not even as a surrogate brother, but as a man. Moe's ability to take charge of any situation was very attractive to Larry. So what if Moe went and screwed it up afterwards? So what if all three of them had a reputation far and wide as complete and utter imbeciles? Maybe that was how the rest of the world perceived them, and heck, the rest of the world was crazy enough. But between the three of them, between Moe, Larry and Curly, they were a tight unit with a hierarchy that worked, and there was no reason to try and fix something that wasn't broken.

Moe pushed himself away from Larry. He raked his hand through his thick, black bangs, let them fall back as they may. His cheeks looked a little flushed, his scorched brown eyes a little more glittery than usual. Larry peeled himself away from the rough bark of the tree and winced as his shoulderblades went into cramp. He felt like he'd gone 10 rounds in the ring with both Muhammed Ali _and _Joe Lewis. There were leaves stuck in his hair and he pulled them out one by one, silently mouthing _he loves me, he loves me not..._

"We better go find Curly," Moe decided. "There's no telling how many ice cream cones that air balloon must have eaten by now."

They left the copse and walked back to where they'd last seen Curly, past the tree where Moe had carved the legend 'Porcupine and DynaMoe 4eva'. Larry thought about it, wondered why Moe had done that. _Just to tease me,_ he decided. _Just to get me all worked up and hopeful. Because he didn't carve our real names, did he? He didn't write Moe H. and Larry F. 4eva._ Nor did he surround them with a crude heart and arrow combination, like all the best tree signatures. Porcupine and DynaMoe could be anybody, Larry decided. Nicknames. Like those other morons Moe slapped around on Jersey Shore. Not even real names. Not even real people. Just cartoon monikers that meant nothing.

They spotted Curly, in the middle of a bunch of kids doing the Curly shuffle, woo woo woo-ing and skidding around the grass in a circle.

"Look at that nitwit," Moe said, shaking his head. "I can't believe we're related. I guess I got the looks _and _the brains."

_You're telling me,_ thought Larry, feasting his eyes on the bowl head's scowling profile.

"Hey! Bubblegum! Whaddya doin'?" Moe began yelling. He left Larry's side and began running down the path towards Curly. "Get up off the grass, ya noodle! You know how difficult it is to get grass stains outta those pants? Whaddya think, I'm just gonna keep buying new clothes for ya, ya great big zeppelin?"

The kids all started laughing as Moe dragged Curly up off the grass and dispensed a series of pistol cracks across the chucklehead's skull.

"But, Moe! But, Moe!" Curly slapped his own face and jumped up and down on the spot. Moe slapped him again, then boinged him in the stomach with his fist and flicked upwards to bop him on the nose. Reaching up with both hands, he twisted hard on Curly's ears as though he were starting up a motorbike. _Owowowowowowowowowow!_ Went Curly. _Come aaaaaaan,_ went Moe. The kids laughed like gurgling drains, falling down all over themselves with tears streaming down their cheeks.

Larry watched his beloved bowl head raining unconditional smacks, slaps and eyepokes down on the hapless Curly, and a shudder of pure electricity went through him as he dared to dream about the surprises that _tonight _would bring.


	5. Chapter 5

**Guys! This is a hell of a long chapter, I hope you don't get bored half way through. These guys and their slow, torturous build-up. Then again, it could be because I've suddenly become shy about writing lemon and slash!** ((**O.O)) OH NOES!**

Considering the torrid smooch Moe had planted on him and the subsequent 'it works both ways' inference whispered huskily into his ear as he stood pressed up against the tree with fireworks going off in his tiny, feeble brain, it was no wonder that poor Larry Fine felt twitchy, nervous and feverish once the three Stooges had returned to their apartment for the evening. He climbed the stairs behind Curly and Moe, feeling like he was going to faint. They had stopped at a drugstore so that Larry could get some painkillers for his throbbing face and he couldn't wait to get in and take some. Half of his monster headache was due to the pratfall he'd taken when his shoes were tied together. The other half was due to trying to second guess his beloved leader and anticipate what was going to happen during the night ahead. That is, if anything happened at all. Moe Howard was nothing if not unpredictable, and Larry knew how much enjoyment the bowl head got out of blind siding his fellow Stooges, promising them this and then giving them that, with a rain shower of slaps to see them on their way.

There was no sign of the landlord as the trio made their way up to the third floor, carrying their bags of groceries. Curly was sucking a lollipop and trying to work a yo yo. "Hmmmm!" he mumbled around the sticky confectionery. He flung his arm out several times, but the yo yo was going nowhere, stuck on the end of his finger. He frowned in concentration and gave his arm one more mighty shake. The yo yo untangled itself, spun forward and cracked Moe on the back of the skull just as they got to the top of the stairs.

"Why, you..." Moe growled. He grabbed the yo yo and pulled hard, tightening the string around Curly's finger until the dolt's digit turned blue.

"Ow, ow, ow! _Moe_!" the fat lunk whimpered.

Moe slapped the stick of the lollipop with the flat of his hand and the sweet treat went straight down Curly's throat.

"Ack, ack, ack!" Curly choked, and coughed the sweet back out again.

"Let that be a lesson to ya," Moe snarled. He shifted his bag of groceries and began fumbling in his pants pocket for the keys to their apartment. As he did so, an attractive young lady came out of a door down the hall. She locked the door behind her and walked slowly towards the Stooges, her slender hips swinging, making her skirt swish against her shapely legs. She saw Moe fumbling around deep inside his front pocket and she giggled.

"Why, hello, Mr. Howard," she smiled, teasing Moe with one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "Lost something?"

"Yeah, he's lost his mind!" Curly grumbled. The fat Stooge's finger was now swollen and pulsing with pain, just like the back of his throat, and he wore the fractious expression of a child on the verge of a temper tantrum.

Moe pasted on an epically cheesy grin. He tried to face off against the young woman but her unwavering gaze was too much even for the leader of the Stooges. Moe found himself blinking like an idiot. "Nope, everything's where it should be," he said blithely, then snapped his mouth shut as he realised it had come out all wrong. "That is...I mean..." he muttered, going crimson from the neck up. Behind him, Larry giggled audibly before slapping his hand over his mouth.

"I'm _very_ glad to hear it," the young lady said, coyly. She patted the blushing bowl head's arm as she passed by him on the way to the stairs. As she descended to the second floor, all three Stooges heard her start laughing. Peering over the bannister trying to see where she was, they realised she was still laughing when she got to the Ground Floor and went out the front door.

The thunderclouds decorating Moe's face as the Stooges turned away from the stairwell told both Larry and Curly it was probably best not to say a single word, even to try and cheer the bowl head up. Moe was so angry he almost snapped the key off in the lock as he bashed the door to their apartment open. It swung back with a loud crash against the wall, bounced back and hit Larry in the face as the fuzzball entered the room meekly behind his leader.

"Owwwwooooooowwww, owwwww!" cried the porcupine, clutching his hands to his already bruised and battered nose.

"Mind the door, mongoose," Moe uttered, not seeming to give a damn in the slightest. He dumped his bag of groceries on the table and threw the keys into a small bowl by the window. Unfortunately the window was open a crack to let the breeze in and the keys bounced out of the bowl and through the open gap, sailing all the way down to the street below.

"Moe, Larry! The keys!" shouted Curly, running to the window.

"Well don't just stand there, featherbrain, go down and get 'em!" Moe barked.

"Hmmmmmmm!" scowled Curly. "I ain't the one who threw 'em!"

"But you're the one who's cryin' about 'em!" Moe snapped. He grabbed Curly by the nose and twisted painfully. "Go aaaaaannn, get down there before I push you out the window after 'em."

As soon as the huffing, puffing, grizzling lunkhead had vacated the room and stomped off down the stairs, Moe grabbed Larry by the lapels of his thrift store tweed jacket and pulled the fuzzball so close that their noses were almost touching. "And what were _you _grinnin' for back there?" the furious chief Stooge demanded.

Caught by surprise, and with his heart racing, Larry could only stammer and blush and smile as cheesily as Moe had done when the woman had teased him. "Ya gotta admit it was pretty funny, Moe," the porcupine sniggered.

"You gotta lotta noive, ya know that?" Moe growled. "I oughta brain you too, if I didn't feel sorry for ya. Ya look like ya been sat on by an elephant."

"Well, I had an argument with the floor, and the floor won," Larry said quietly, staring hard at the angry crease between Moe's bristling black eyebrows.

"You're your own worst enemy, ya know that?" Moe's voice was softer now, too. Almost caring, Larry thought- if he could be 100% convinced that Moe ever cared about anything or anyone for long.

All thought was wiped out of Larry's already tiny mind, because in the next moment, they were kissing. Moe with his fingers still curled in a death grip around Larry's lapels, yanked the fuzzhead towards him. Larry could only clutch wildly at Moe's sleeves, grabbing the bowl head by the upper arms to steady himself. Moe's mouth hit Larry's hard, their teeth clashing together. Moe's stubble scraped Larry's lips and chin. Scorching air blasted out of Moe's flared nostrils and took the breath right out of Larry's lungs.

Just as Larry found the wherewithall to kiss back with as much ferocity as Moe was kissing him, they heard Curly's boots stomping back up the stairs and broke apart fast. Moe was panting like a dog. Larry was blinking and gasping for air like a landed fish. Without saying a word, Moe hurriedly crossed the room to the sink and leaned on it with both hands, staring at himself in the mirror. He glanced sideways at Larry. Once more their gaze met and held in the reflective glass, and then Curly barged into the room and threw the apartment key straight at Moe's head.

"There's your stupid key!" the fatso argued. "I had to crawl around in Mrs. Grimble's geraniums for it."

Moe whipped round and slapped the fat sulking Stooge across the face. "Whose fault is that?"

"Yours!" Curly yelled.

Moe slapped him again. "Reiterate!" he yelled back. "Reiterate, or I'll moider ya!" He twisted both of Curly's ears until the cartilage sounded like it was going to snap.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow!" Curly whined, bending lower and lower to the floor.

"_Reiterate_!" Moe threatened, his voice hoarse with fury.

"Okay, okay! It was my fault! Mine! Mine! _Mine_!"

"That's better!" Moe released Curly's ears and hauled the blubbering man-baby to his feet. "Now make yourself useful and get to work making dinner. It's about time someone else did some work around here!" He booted Curly up the keester as Curly shuffled across to the small kitchen area, muttering and grumbling about how everything was so unfair.

Larry watched the bowl head in awe. He guessed he knew why Moe was suddenly so angry. He'd made a fool of himself in front of that young dame, what was her name? Lucille or something. Moe prided himself on being infallible, or so he thought. Infallible, and always in charge. He did not like being humiliated, and certainly not in front of pretty dames!

Moe crossed to the window and hoisted it up, then stuck his head out and breathed in a great lungful of fresh air- or what passed for fresh air in the city.

"Moe! The window, remember it's..." Curly started, but was cut off by the chief Stooge.

"What did I tell ya? Get to work!"

The window suddenly dropped and clonked Moe on the back of the neck, pinning his head to the sill. "It's an ambush!" he yelled, struggling against the weight of the precocious pane. "Get me out of here!"

Larry ran over and lifted the window off Moe's neck. Without even thanking him, Moe shot across the room in a flash and began slapping Curly across the face. "Didn't I tell ya to fix that window three days ago?" he shouted.

"I did fix that window three days ago!" Curly yelled back, and did the unthinkable, slapping Moe across the face in retaliation. "It ain't my fault it ain't woikin' now!"

Meanwhile, Larry looked at the window frame and decided all it needed was a wedge to keep it from sliding down so easily. He folded up an old postcard and jammed it in between the window frame and the outer sill. The window stayed open. "There! I fixed it!" the porcupine announced, but neither of the other Stooges were listening. With a sigh, Larry went across to the kitchenette and took over the peeling of the potatoes from Curly, who was still engaged in a slap fight with Moe. "_No-one _except me does anything around here," he grumbled.

The Howard slapfest ended as abruptly as it begun. Moe dug into a bag of shopping and pulled out a packet of garishly coloured candy. "Aah! Gummy woims!" he cried, like a child finding a lost comforter. "Come to Daddy!" He tore open the packet and shoved a handful of the rubbery snakes into his mouth. "I'm so addicted to these things," he mumbled as he chewed, and chewed, and chewed.

"Don't spoil your dinner," Larry told him, putting sliced potatoes into a pan of water.

"With you cookin', how can I spoil something that's already gonna be ruined?" Moe retorted, his cheeks bulging like a hamster storing food for the winter.

"Well, ain't that nice," Larry quipped. "I don't know why I bother. I should just give you burnt toast and a rotten egg for your tapeworm."

Moe grinned suddenly. There was red and green Gummy Worm juice all over his teeth. "You're a real scream, Porcupine," he said, trying not to dribble all down his chin.

"Just do me a favour and chew those things with your mouth closed," Larry said, smiling affectionately at his leader.

Moe went over to Larry and tried to push a Gummy Worm into his face. Luckily it was a fresh one from the packet and not one he'd pulled out of his mouth. "Open up, Baby bird," he teased. "C'mon, Daddy bird went all over the forest to find ya a nice, fat, juicy treat."

Larry laughed and tried to push Moe away. "Go on and sit down or somethin'. Ya got ants in ya pants?"

Moe kept trying to feed Larry the chewy worm. "C'mon, Baby bird, open up!"

At last Larry humoured the bowl head and opened his mouth. Moe pushed the Gummy Worm in and then stood there watching while Larry chewed it up and swallowed it.

"Lemme see," Moe said.

Larry obliged, opening his mouth wide to show his red stained tongue. "Aaaaaah," he gargled, as though he were at the dentist.

"Nice work, fledgling," Moe smiled. "Soon you'll be ready to leave the nest for good."

Larry took the pan of potatoes over to the stove. "What if I don't want to leave the nest?" he said. "What if I like it in the nest, with Daddy bird and Mommy bird takin' care of me?"

Moe followed Larry, hovering over him like an annoying supervisor. "Who said anything about Mommy bird?"

"You can't have a baby bird without a Mommy bird," Larry replied. "Don't you know anything?"

Moe was so close now, he could almost rest his chin on Larry's shoulder as Larry lit the burner and put the pan on top. "You sayin' Daddy bird ain't up to the job?" he murmured into Larry's ear.

Larry squirmed. The sweet smell of Gummy Worms invaded his nostrils and made him want to kiss Moe so much he could barely stand it. "I didn't say that."

"You know Daddy bird loves Baby bird as much as Mommy bird does," Moe went on. He slid his hand down over Larry's hip and caressed the top of his thigh through his pants.

"Moe, stop it," Larry hissed. "Curly's in the room."

"He ain't lookin'." Moe's fingers crept higher up Larry's leg.

"I don't care, this ain't the time or place." Larry pulled away sharply, leaving Moe with his hand hovering in mid-air. The bowl head's face dropped immediately into a full-blown scowl as he stared grumpily into the pan of potatoes. Larry sighed and attempted to run his fingers through his wild bushy hair, but gave up when they became instantly tangled in the frizzy ginger mess. "I ain't mad at ya, Moe," he said, softly. "And I'm sorry ya got caught out by Lucille...or whatever her name is."

Moe turned and fixed Larry with a thunderous glare. "I'd already forgotten about that, and ya wanna bring it up again? Why, I oughta bean you with this can o' beans!" He picked up an unopened can of beans from the table and waved it half-heartedly at Larry. Then he sighed and put the can down again. "That dame had to come outta her apartment right at the wrong time," he muttered. "Now she won't ever look at me again without picturin' me diggin' around in my pants."

Larry nudged Moe's shoulder playfully. "Well, that'll make two of us," he grinned. "Only I picture it all the time." He winked at Moe, whose beetle black eyebrows shot up under his glossy black bangs and disappeared almost entirely.

Before Moe could gather his wits enough to say anything back to Larry, Curly interrupted to ask when dinner would be ready. Moe, appearing somewhat relieved to change the subject, turned his full attention on to Curly and bonked the tubby troublemaker on the nose.

"When Larry says it's ready!" the bowl head shouted. And thus began another round of Howard slaps, smacks and eyepokes while Larry sighed gustily and carried on preparing a makeshift dinner for all of them.

After a delicious dinner of corned beef hash and green beans (during which none of the Stooges spoke, they just piled food into their mouths and chewed noisily, slurping down great gulps of water in between monstrous mouthfuls), Larry cleared the dishes away and Moe began pacing around the room, as nervous as a cat. Larry wondered what was on the chief moron's mind, then looked at Curly. The fat Stooge seemed to be a cause of more irritation than normal tonight. Larry thought about the kiss Moe had landed on him when Curly went downstairs for the lost key. Maybe Moe was getting angsty about tonight. Sure enough, while Larry busied himself scrubbing remnants of mashed potato out of the pan, Moe sidled up to him and stage whispered in his ear.

"We're gonna have to shut that lump up tonight," the bowl head muttered.

An electric tingle shot straight through Larry from his frizzy hair down to his tippy toes. Moe was planning ahead already. _Well, at least he's giving me forewarning_, Larry thought.

"I got painkillers," Larry suggested. "We could drug him."

Moe's eyes bulged. "Drug him? What are ya, nuts?"

Larry backtracked. "Sorry, I guess that's a little harsh, even for us."

"No, it ain't that. Drugging him'll take too long, and anyway, what if nothin' happens. You know that beanbag has a cast iron stomach. No, I say we knock him out cold, plain and simple." Moe leaned in closer. "I'll distract him, and you clonk him with the mallet."

Larry raised one eyebrow. "It's a good thing we always have a mallet lyin' around handy, ain't it?"

Moe patted Larry's shoulder. "Attaboy. I knew I could count on you." He walked away towards Curly, who was washing his face at the sink. "Hey, bubblehead, what's that on your shoe?"

Curly turned away from the sink and looked down. Larry picked up the mallet that just happened to be propped up against the wall and tippy toed across the room.

"There ain't nothin' on my shoe!" the birdbrain grumbled.

"Yeah, right there!" Moe said, pointing at Curly's feet.

Curly bent even lower. Larry raised the mallet. But then Curly overbalanced due to the sheer weight of his rotund belly and fell forward onto the floor. Larry brought the mallet down and hit Moe straight on the crown.

"OOOOOHH!" Moe hissed, both hands flying to his throbbing cranium. "Owowowowowowowow! Whaddya tryin' ta do, _kill me_?"

"Sorry, Moe, I was trying to hit..." Larry glanced at Curly, who was struggling to his feet and brushing himself down. "A fly that was on your head! That's it, there was a fly on your head! A great big nasty old greenbottle, right in your hair!"

"Gimme that," Moe snapped, grabbing the mallet out of Larry's hands. "Hey, Curly, see that ten cents on the floor over there?"

Curly looked around. He scratched his stubbly scalp in confusion. "What ten cents?"

Moe fished a dime out of his pocket and launched it across the room. It clattered to the floor and spun on its side before finally coming to rest. "_That_ ten cents," he said. "Would you go get it for me?"

Without even questioning why Moe had just thrown money across the room, Curly shrugged and went after the fallen coin. Moe raised the mallet and followed him, an evil grin plastered across his features. When Curly bent down to pick up the coin, Moe lifted the mallet high.

"Hey, look! There's my baseball card I lost yesterday!" Curly said, and skittered away from the ten cent piece just as Moe brought the mallet down. The mallet hit the floor with such force that a picture fell off the wall and a floorboard splintered with a loud crack. A muffled shouting came from the apartment next door.

"Are you three saps startin' up again? I got woik in two hours!"

"Go annnn, get back in ya casket, Dracula!" Moe yelled, banging his clenched fist on the wall.

Curly picked up his baseball card, and then retrieved Moe's dime. "Here ya, go, Moe!" he chirped, holding the coin out towards Moe. "Hey!" he said, as though suddenly noticing that Moe had swung a mallet at him. "What gives with the hittin' stick?"

Moe raised the mallet again. "You made me wake up the neighbour!" he grumbled. "I oughta knock your brains right outta your ears!"

"Moe, no! Moe no!" Curly raised both arms in defense as Moe crept closer with the mallet raised. "Besides, you wouldn't hit a man just as he was goin' out on a date, would ya?"

Moe's eyes widened. He froze on the spot with the mallet raised high above his head. "A date?" he repeated.

"Yeah! A date! When I was in the park earlier and youse two disappeared. A man wid a camera and a whole buncha beautiful goirls turned up to take pictures." Curly grinned doltishly and began twirling his fingers together. "Well, see, I got talkin' to this dame, see. And she was real nice, see. And she asked me out on a date!" Curly giggled like a simpleton. "Woo woo woo woo woo!"

Moe glanced at Larry, who shrugged back at him. "You hear that, porcupine? This bladderbrain thinks he's goin' on a..."

The sound of the doorbell ringing out across the room stunned Moe and Larry into silence.

"That must be her right now!" Curly exclaimed. He ran to the window, which was still propped open thanks to the old postcard Larry had wedged in there, and stuck his head out. "Hiya, Toots!" he yelled down to the street.

"Hey there, Big Boy!" came a sexy female voice, floating upwards on a soft, evening breeze.

"Woo woo woo woo woo!" Curly shrieked excitedly. "Don't go 'way! I'll be right down!" He pulled his head back in and ran over to Moe. He snapped his fingers in rapid succession, slapped his fist with the palm of his hand, and tickled the scowling bowl head under the chin. "Don't wait up!" he garbled. "Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk!"

Moe lowered the mallet as Curly ran to the mirror, slicked his non-existent hair down, blew himself a kiss, and danced over to the door like a happy elf. "Maybe I can fix you guys up wid two of her friends," he trilled gaily.

"Get outta heeeeere," Moe grunted.

"Your loss!" Curly grinned, and then he was out through the door and gone, 'na-na-nee, na-na-naaaing' all the way down three flights of stairs to the Ground Floor.

Moe and Larry stared at each other in silence for a long moment, then both of them rushed to the open window at once. Their heads collided as they both tried to look out at the same time. Moe grabbed a hank of Larry's hair and pulled the fuzzball backwards. "Spread out, chump," he growled.

"Aw, be nice, Moe, there's room for both of us," Larry whined, rubbing his stinging scalp.

Moe relented. He grabbed Larry's sleeve and yanked him towards the window. "All right, c'mere." He pushed down hard on the top of Larry's fuzzy head and then stuck his own head out over the top. The two Stooges looked down onto the street just in time to see a voluptuous blonde with an extremely low cut top greet Curly with a smooch right on the fat Stooge's lips. Both Stooges got an eyeful down the blonde's impressive cleavage as she leaned in towards Curly.

"Well, whaddya know," Moe whispered. "The goon was tellin' the truth!"

"Yeahhhhh," Larry sighed, mournfully. "Some guys have all the luck!"

Moe looked down at Larry. "Whaddya mean by that?" he demanded.

Larry blinked. "Well, look at her! She's a prize, all right! Talk about stacked!"

Moe's eyes narrowed. "Yeah? Prefer 'em that shape, do ya? Ya shoulda told me, I'da made my own arrangements for tonight!"

Larry stared up at Moe. "You're teasin' me, right?"

Moe chuckled. "Sure I'm teasin' ya. But ya gotta admit, that kid sure is full of surprises."

Larry and Moe watched in awe as the bouncy breasted blonde ushered Curly into the passenger seat of a flashy red sports car and then hopped into the driver's seat and gunned the engine. With a roar, the car peeled away from the kerb and was gone, as if it had never been there at all.

Larry pulled his head in from the window. Moe did the same, only he caught his head on the windowframe with a loud crack, causing the postcard to be dislodged and the window to fall down onto his knuckles. Screaming in pain, Moe could only pull his hands in and blow on his poor throbbing fingers, then tuck his hands under his arms and jump up and down until the pain began to subside.

"Pipe down in there, you mooks!" the neighbour yelled.

"Oh, ain't you a one!" Moe shouted back. "Yellin' at people to tell 'em to stop yellin'! What'sa matter wid ya?"

"I'll have you evicted!" the neighbour cried.

"I'll have you ground up into mincemeat and deep fried with onions!" Moe screamed back.

"Moe, leave him alone," Larry said, trying to remain calm in the face of Moe's whirlwind fury. "He's nothin' to do with us. If we stop hollerin' and yellin', then so will he. Anyways, he's goin' to work in a couple hours and then we'll have the whole place to ourselves. Ya know?"

Moe clenched his jaw. His fingers still throbbed painfully and he was in no mood to argue with Larry as well.

Larry sidled closer to Moe and lowered his voice even more, as though he were a keeper approaching a particularly dangerous lion at the zoo. "Our one night alone together and you want to ruin it by fightin' with that dope. What if he calls the landlord again?"

Moe's shoulders dropped. "You're right, porcupine," he agreed. "I'm lettin' my hot head get the better of me again."

Larry laughed softly. "If I didn't love your hot head so much, I'd..." he stopped suddenly, realising what he'd just said.

Moe stared at him. "Did you just say what I thought you..."

"No," Larry said firmly. He shook his head so hard his frizzy curls were still swinging after he stopped.

Moe smiled. "I better get my ears checked. 'Cause I'm sure I keep hearin' things."

Larry moved closer, a little warily, but also feeling more excited than he'd ever felt in his life. "Lemme see your hands," he said, reaching for Moe's wrists. Moe allowed him to pull his hands out from where they'd been tucked in under his arms. Larry lifted first one hand, and then the other, to his lips and gently kissed Moe's throbbing fingers. "Feel better?" he asked, teasingly.

Moe's eyes glittered. "Fast mover, ain't ya?"

Larry gently stroked Moe's hands, holding them close to his heart. "Gotta be," he grinned. "You're so unpredictable there's no tellin' what might happen even in the next five minutes."

"What is that, your idea of a compliment?" the bowl head demanded.

"Yeah. Don'tcha like it? I thought it made you sound kinda dangerous. Y'know?" Larry pressed closer, encouraged by the smouldering look in Moe's eyes. "Like a bad boy."

Moe's breathing slowed and became audible to Larry's ears. "You like bad boys, don'tcha, porcupine?" he murmured, curling his fingers gently into the folds of Larry's shirt.

"Mmm," Larry sighed. "The badder, the better- and you're pretty much the worst of the bunch."

"C'mere," growled Moe. He pulled Larry forcibly towards him and once again their lips met and molded together as though they were made for each other. Larry groaned softly in the back of his throat. Moe's kiss pushed his head back and made his neck strain, but all he wanted was more of the same. The pain that Moe caused him was all that he knew- all that he'd ever known since they were children. Young Moe's childish slaps had strengthened as he became a man, and with the advent of manhood came all the other feelings as well. The face slaps that went straight to Larry's groin. The eyepokes that sent shockwaves right down his spine. Larry couldn't tell what was pain from what was pleasure anymore. He just knew that the source of all of his feelings was Moe, and Moe could do anything to him that he wanted, because Moe was in complete control of his mind, body and soul. Always.

"You taste sweet, like Gummy Worms," Larry murmured, blissfully. His eyelashes fluttered against Moe's cheek.

"You taste like corned beef hash," Moe replied. He leaned in for another kiss, but Larry struggled away and fixed him with a glare.

"You sayin' my breath stinks?" he grumbled.

"No, not at all. I happen to like corned beef hash," Moe chuckled. "But y'know, if ya want a Gummy Worm, Daddy bird's got a whole bag of 'em over here."

Laughing, the two Stooges fell on the bag of Gummy Worms and began cramming the sweets into their mouths until their cheeks bulged. Until their words were nothing but unintelligible mumblings. Larry clutched his aching jaw, while Gummy juice trickled out of the corner of his mouth. Somehow it had turned into a Gummy Worm eating contest, and Larry was losing miserably. By the time Moe had finished his mouthful and swallowed all the sweets without spitting out a single drop, Larry was bent over with his face in his hands, trying to hold back the laughter that threatened to spray mangled Gummy Worms all over the walls and floor.

"And the undisputed winner of the Gummy Worm Eating Championships, is...Moe Howard!" Moe lifted his clasped hands above his head and did a victory lap around the room. "Larry 'Loser' Fine comes in second!"

"Like he always does," Larry complained, the grin on his face making it obvious he was joking.

Moe stopped in front of Larry and pulled him upright. There was a very mischievous twinkle in the chief Stooge's cocoa brown eyes. "Always?" he grinned. "What about last night, tiger?" Moe waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Larry's eyes widened. "I thought you were all disgusted about last night," he said. "I thought you were all into 'dames' and stuff."

"Yeah, well, maybe dames are overrated," Moe chuckled. He toyed with the collar of Larry's shirt, snapping open a couple of buttons. "Although, y'know, if ya wanted to dress up for me..."

Larry shook his head vehemently. "Not a chance," he protested. "What if there was a building fire and we had to run out into the street and I was dressed like a dame?"

"It wouldn't be the first time," Moe dipped his head to kiss Larry's exposed collarbone.

"It would be the first time in _this _building."

Moe laughed, sending a Gummy Worm scented puff of air across Larry's shoulder and neck. "Spoilsport," he chided. "At least you wouldn't be butt naked, like I probably would be."

Larry sighed with pleasure. He tipped his head back to let Moe kiss his throat. "Geez, Moe, stop saying stuff like that or I'll cream in my pants."

"Again," Moe snorted. Then the bowl head dissolved into a very uncharacteristic fit of the giggles.

"You're so childish," Larry murmured.

"But yet somehow, so sexy," Moe finished. "Right, porcupine?"

"Oh sure, go ahead,. Flatter yourself why don'tcha?"

Moe leaned forward and nibbled Larry's lower lip. "Why don't you just shut up for two seconds, fuzzball?"

This time, Moe's kiss sent Larry reeling backwards until the two Stooges collided with the bed, still rumpled and unmade from the night before. Larry fell backwards, his arm thrown out to break his fall and to stop Moe from landing too heavily on top of him. The chief Stooge was still laughing in maniacal bursts against Larry's mouth, which Larry found slightly alarming, considering they were going to be alone together for most of the night- that is, unless Curly's date didn't end abruptly because of something stupid and antisocial the fat lamebrain might do. Which was always a possibility, of course...

Moe scrambled into position on top of Larry. He straddled the the bushy-haired mongoose's waist and pinned him to the mattress by his shoulders. "You're makin' this way too easy for me," the bowl head tutted. "Where's your _chutzpah_?"

"My what?" Larry asked.

"Your get up and go!"

"Oh. I guess it got up and went," said Larry, flashing Moe another cheesy grin.

"Well! You're no fun," Moe pouted.

"C'mon, Snake Eyes, the night is young," Larry retorted, staring up into the chief Stooge's mocking visage. "Gimme a chance to get warmed up!"

"You mean my kisses ain't enough to get ya goin'?" Moe looked mighty offended. "Why, of all the ungrateful porcupines in this world!"

"How many ungrateful porcupines do you know?" asked Larry, trailing his hands up Moe's chest to begin slowly unfastening the bowl head's own shirt buttons.

Moe shrugged. "Not too many, I'll admit."

Larry unfastened all of Moe's shirt buttons one by one and slowly drew the bowl head's shirt open to reveal his chest and stomach. Moe breathed in slightly so that his pot belly full of dinner wouldn't show.

"Well, look at you," Larry murmured. "You're a regular lifeguard!"

"You know, I once saved Curly from drowning," Moe grinned.

"Yeah? How?"

"I took my foot off his head!"

Larry burst out laughing. "That's an old one," he giggled, poking Moe in the ribs.

"Ah, but I wasn't joking," Moe chuckled. "I really did have my foot on the numbskull's head."

Larry stroked his fingertips over Moe's stomach, feeling the muscles twitch beneath the skin. Moe's eyes began to grow glassy. "You scare me, Moe, you know that? We've been together our whole lives and you still scare me. There's never any tellin' what you'll do. The only surety I have in my life is knowin' that somehow, we'll always be together."

"Hey, don't start getting' sappy on me," Moe barked. "I ain't in the mood for romance."

"Yeah?" said Larry. "What _are_ ya in the mood for?"

Moe took one of Larry's hands in his and brought it to his lips. He fastened his teeth onto Larry's wrist, just below his thumb pad, and sucked gently. Larry moaned as tingles fizzed and crackled all the way along his arm and made butterflies dance in his stomach. Then Moe pushed up Larry's sleeve and dropped a line of gentle kisses along the soft underside of Larry's arm all the way to the elbow.

Larry felt himself growing harder than he ever thought possible. With Moe sitting astride him like this, their groins were just inches away from each other and he could tell with just a downwards glance that Moe was becoming pretty aroused too.

Moe leaned down and kissed Larry passionately, sliding his candy flavoured tongue deep down into Larry's gaping throat. Larry squirmed and wriggled under the chief Stooge's weight but there was no let up to be had. Moe tightened his fingers around Larry's elbows, pinning the porcupine's arms above his head. The kiss went on and on, bringing Larry to a state of mental torture he'd never dreamed possible. Moe jousted with his tongue, he nipped and nibbled and even outright bit. He chewed on Larry's lower lip as if it were one of his beloved Gummy Worms. Larry thought he was going to go insane from all the pleasurable sensations firing through his nerve endings, and when Moe started rubbing himself on top of Larry, grinding his hips around in slow, circular motions, Larry squeezed his eyes shut and hoped and prayed he wouldn't explode in his pants right there and then.

Moe's breathing was starting to get erratic. He bit and sucked Larry's neck, chewed on Larry's earlobe. He let go of Larry's arms, kneeled over his porcupine friend and ripped the fuzzball's shirt open with a caveman-like grunt, sending buttons flying off and pinging everywhere around the room.

"Hey! This shirt cost three dollars!" Larry cried indignantly.

"You was robbed," Moe retorted, burying his face back in Larry's neck.

Larry fell silent apart from groans and sighs of pleasure as Moe began licking and nibbling him all over his neck, collarbones and chest. He threaded his fingers through Moe's thick bangs, pulling and tugging, clenching his hands into fists. He had always been fascinated with Moe's hair because it was so very different to his own. He wondered if Moe felt the same way about his, Larry's, hair. Maybe _that_ was why he was always ripping out great handfuls of it. He wanted a keepsake from his favourite fuzzball!

It was almost getting impossible to think now, with Moe's hands and mouth roaming everywhere. Vaguely Larry could hear noises in the apartment, and then realised they were coming from next door. "Dracula must be emerging from his coffin," he uttered, his eyes closed and his head tipped back onto the pillows.

"Who gives a crap about that sea slug," Moe responded, busy nibbling a wet trail all the way down Larry's stomach.

"Fair enough," Larry smiled. He went back to enjoying the feel of Moe's tongue describing lazy circles around his navel.

"Besides, once he's gone, there'll be no-one around to hear you scream," Moe added.

Larry's head shot up off the pillow. "Whaaat?" he gasped.

"Oh, deaf as well as dumb, eh?" Moe wisecracked. "You hoid me, Ants in the Pants. Once that grizzly bear's gone, there'll be no-one ta hear you scream." With that, Moe rubbed the flat of his palm against the rock hard bulge in Larry's pants. "And believe me, porcupine, you _will _scream."

"Uh, so maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all," Larry said feebly. "Maybe we should just spend the night watchin' TV. Whaddya say?"

"Nope, we're already too far gone," Moe replied. "You got my juices flowing, mongoose, and that mean we gotta see this thing through, right to the bitter end."

"You make it sound so...frightening," Larry deadpanned.

"What did I tell ya, I ain't one for romance."

Larry laughed. He raked his fingers affectionately through Moe's hair. "I must be a sucker for punishment."

"I can also show you one or two things about sucking," Moe said, and winked.

The neighbour started getting ready for work, making as much noise as possible on the other side of the wall. "See how _you _like it!" he shouted.

"We like it just fine!" Moe retorted.

"Buncha assholes!" the man grumbled.

"He must be right up against the wall," Larry whispered, worriedly. "Think he's listenin' to us?"

Moe began unfastening Larry's belt buckle. "Nah. He's gotta go to work soon."

"I wonder what he does?" Larry mused, watching Moe's beautiful fingers slowly loosen his belt and pull it open.

"Works at the sour cream factory," Moe quipped. "He's the one who turns it sour."

Larry let out a bark of laughter. "You kill me, Moe!"

"Yeah? Then I guess we're even."

While the neighbour stomped around in his own apartment trying to annoy the Stooges as much as possible, Moe set to work pulling off Larry's pants. The two lovestruck Stooges could not have cared less about the noise the guy was making, so lost were they in their own little world. Moe threw Larry's pants across the room and ran his hands up the insides of Larry's naked thighs. Larry let out a squeak of pleasure. His raging flagpole poked up through the thin fabric of his cotton boxers, yearning to be free.

Moe struggled into a kneeling position and wrenched off his own shirt. He unbuckled his belt and wriggled out of his own pants while Larry lay motionless and watching, clad only in his open shirt and boxers.

"It's okay, don't get up," Moe quipped.

"I wasn't goin' to," Larry responded.

"At least take off your shirt," Moe grumbled. "That crazy Hawaiian print is givin' me a migraine!"

Larry stuck his tongue out. Moe grabbed it and squeezed.

"Owowowowowow!" Larry garbled. "'Et go, ya gig gully!"

"What did ya _think_ I was gonna do?" Moe laughed. "Word of warning, pumpkinhead. Don't ever let ya guard down!"

Larry shot up into a sitting position and promptly slapped Moe's face hard. The move was completely unexpected and Moe froze in shock before narrowing his eyes into glowering slits. "Don't let ya guard down," Larry said, parroting Moe's own words.

"Whyyyy, youuuuu..." Moe launched himself at Larry and dealt the fuzzhead a volley of slaps on the forehead. Larry wrapped his bare legs around Moe's bare torso and squeezed hard. The breath whooshed out of Moe's lungs. "I'm dyin'!" he yelled. "I'm dyin'! He's suffocatin' me!"

Larry laughed hysterically.

The neighbour banged on the wall. "Hurry up and die already!"

"Ah, go curdle some cream," Moe shouted. He and Larry then dissolved into giggles like two teenaged girls.

"Ya crazy goons!" the neighbour hollered.

Then another voice was heard, even further away. "Will you be quiet in there?!" it shouted.

"Oh, a domino effect!" Moe grinned. He cupped his hand behind his ear. "Let's see how far down the hall it goes."

Finally Larry could take it no longer. "Moe, will you quit obsessin' over the neighbours? You're worse than an old lady. What are ya, _scared_?" He promptly re-wrapped his legs around Moe's waist and tried to flip the chief moron over, but Moe was stronger and fought back like a pitbull terrier with a spittoon haircut. The two Stooges wrestled all over the bed until finally Larry cried 'uncle'. Breathless and panting and more than a little red in the face, he gazed up at the triumphant Moe looming above him. "Do with me what you will, O Mighty Conqueror," he gasped, exhausted.

"Oh, I fully intend to," Moe winked. And then, without even a word of warning, he grabbed the waistband of Larry's boxers and yanked them all the way down Larry's thighs, exposing Larry's rigid member for everyone to see, if anyone else had been watching, that is. "Whoa, a rampant rhino!" Moe exclaimed, more than a little impressed with all that Larry had to offer. "I hope that centipede next door doesn't have a secret spyhole in the wall!"

"Oh my God, Moe, you had to say a scary thing like that," cried Larry, attempting to cover up his raging manhood which was presently swaying back and forth like a hypnotised cobra.

Moe pulled Larry's hands away. "No point covering up now, Bashful. We've all seen it."

Larry looked down the length of his pale, naked body at his tumescent member standing proud, rooted in a nest of frizzy ginger hair that almost matched the tangled red mop on his head. "Even I've never seen it _that_ big," he muttered.

"Really?" said Moe. "Not even when Sister Bernice came out of the pool wearing her skimpy Nunkini?"

Larry shook his head. "Not even then."

Moe let out a low whistle. "You mean, all..._that_ is because of me?" he asked, pointing at Larry's stiff shaft.

Larry nodded. "Uh-huh. All because of you."

Moe stared in wonder at Larry's massive organ. "I...I don't know what to say," he uttered.

"How about you don't say anything, and put your big mouth to good use for once?" Larry demanded.

Moe reached out and slapped Larry's shining forehead. "How about you let _me_ make the decisions around here?" he growled.

"Whatever," Larry sighed, letting his head flop back onto the bed. "But I'm getting cosy here, and if you don't make a move soon, I might fall asleep." He closed his eyes and smiled to himself as he felt Moe shift his weight on the bed and make muttering noises under his breath that sounded like _don't rush me_. It was apparent that, not for the first time, Moe's bark was much worse than his bite, and faced with the reality of a situation, the scowling bowl head was suddenly overcome with nerves. It was an endearing trait, an _important _trait, because it was the one thing that saved him from being a complete psychopath. Moe could be a grumpy, insufferable S.O.B, but he had a conscience, he had feelings, and he knew right from wrong, even if he didn't always adhere to the rules.

Moe placed his hand gently on the inside of Larry's left thigh. Larry's mouth fell open in a soundless 'O'. His leg twitched- Moe's hand was warm, his fingers strong. It was nice to feel Moe's touch without it involving a slap, poke, prod or punch.

Moe stroked Larry's leg for a few long moments. The bowl head was obviously thinking- Larry could almost hear the cogs tumbling around in his head. Every nerve ending in Larry's thigh trembled and sang as Moe's fingertips brushed over them. Larry slitted his eyes open and watched Moe in silence. The bowl head's expression was devoid of anger, his features smoothed out and unlined. It was a shock to see Moe looking so calm, so peaceful. It took years off him- made him look at least ten years younger. Larry resisted the urge to tickle his fingers through Moe's bangs. He didn't want to do anything that might interrupt the boss Stooge's Zen moment, but his whole body ached for his leader's touch, his leader's kiss, and the wait was becoming unbearable.

**(I know, I know, I'm writing, I'm _writing_!)**


	6. Chapter 6

**This is the chapter where it all happens, so warnings and disclaimers abound. **

**Don't read any further if you're offended by male slash. (And if you know you might be offended but you still go ahead and read, don't cry about it afterwards.) This chapter is probably at the top end of the M Rating. It is _adult content only_. If you are under your country's age of consent for reading stuff like this, then please don't read it. **

**This is a work of fanfiction loosely based on fictional characters played by actors. (Even the real Stooges were fictional characters up to a point.) **

**Characters depicted are based on the 2012 Movie versions. **

**If you aren't offended by male slash and you ship the pairing of movie Moe and Larry, then I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it...**

Larry didn't know how much time had passed while he lay there with his eyes half closed, getting used to being naked in front of Moe and allowing Moe to get used to this dramatic shift in the dynamics of their friendship. Moe was fine when things were in black and white, no questions asked. But when he wasn't 100% in charge, he needed time to adjust- perhaps even more than Larry or Curly did.

Sometimes Larry thought things would be so much easier for them all if Moe were more willing to accept that some situations couldn't be controlled by anyone- they were what they were, and sometimes they were beautiful.

The neighbour continued stomping grumpily around until at last he had to leave for work. The sun had set and the streetlights were coming on, filtering through the murky glass and faded curtains in the window. Neither Larry nor Moe got up to switch on the light. It was more comfortable for both of them to do what they were doing in the semi darkness- for Larry, it meant he didn't have to look at his own pale skin tone and weedy frame next to Moe's tanned and slightly more athletic stature. As for Moe, Larry wondered if the chief Stooge was starting to have second thoughts. He reached for the bowl head's hair and gently ran his fingers through Moe's thick bangs.

"Y'know, I don't wanna say anything but..."

"Then don't," said Moe, cutting him off brusquely.

Larry closed his mouth firmly. He stared up at the darkening ceiling. Suddenly Moe was looming over him, darkening his vision still further. Not a word was spoken between them as Moe lowered his mouth to Larry's and kissed him passionately, breathing warm air over the blissful porcupine's face, tickling Larry's expansive forehead with his hair.

Larry wrapped his arms around his beloved leader. He raised one leg and hooked his toe into the waistband of Moe's boxers, pulling them down and exposing the bowl head's buttocks to the warm night air. While the fuzzball was doing this, Moe reached back and grabbed him behind the knee.

"What are ya playin' at?" he growled. He began tickling behind Larry's knee, making the porcupine squirm and yelp. Then he pushed himself up and began biting and licking Larry behind the knee. Larry squealed like a girl in delight. Moe continued biting and nibbling all over Larry's raised leg, laughing when Larry cried out at a particularly sharp nip he delivered to Larry's inner thigh. And then, having kissed, licked and nibbled all the way up Larry's thigh, Moe left Larry waiting no longer. He placed his head over Larry's pulsing flagpole and began to take the whole thing into his mouth.

Larry groaned with so much pleasure he thought he would fire the gun right then and there. His hips bucked upwards, feeding Moe more of his delicious prize. "Ohhh," he murmured, "that's right, Baby bird, take all of Daddy's fat, juicy worm."

Without missing a beat, Moe slapped Larry hard on the rump.

"Oh, yeahhh," sighed Larry, wriggling around. "Spank me, you animal!"

Moe took his mouth away from Larry's fat shaft long enough to mutter, "don't get ahead of yourself, Porcupine." Then he went right back to what he was doing.

Grasping the sheets tightly in both hands, Larry rolled his head side to side as the erotic sensations continued. "Where'd you...uhh...learn to do this, anyway?" he gasped. Moe's tongue was doing things to him that he didn't even know were possible.

Moe chuckled wickedly, and the vibrations in his throat almost made Larry pass out. "Wouldn't you like to know," he mumbled, teasingly.

Larry threaded the fingers of both hands through Moe's hair and thrust upwards into the bowl head's mouth. "Yeah, I would..." he started, but a slap from Moe across his ribs stopped him.

"Whatddya tryin' ta do, choke me?"

"Sorry, Moe...it's just that...oh god, you're so good at this, I..." Larry's voice caught in his throat as Moe took him in so deep that he could feel the chief moron's mouth tickling through the ginger nest at the base of his swollen manhood. "Oh godddd..." he moaned, pitifully. "Please tell me you didn't learn how to do this at the orphanage."

Moe sucked Larry with all of his throat and mouth muscles combined, his tongue rubbing hard against the underside of the fuzzball's shaft.

"Oh, sweet Jeeez..." Larry's fists curled so tightly around the sheets he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms even through the layers of cotton fabric. His eyeballs pounded behind his fluttering eyelids. Moe even knew how to punish him with his mouth! And then, just when the twittering mongoose thought things couldn't get any more intense, Moe slipped a finger inside of him and rubbed a spot somewhere deep inside that made Larry take off like a Fourth of July rocket. It was all he could do to grab a pillow and stuff it in his mouth before he screamed out loud, bucked his hips and ejaculated right down Moe's gaping throat.

The waves of ecstasy buffeted the poor, howling aardvark as he bit down on the pillow, muffling his own tortured cries of pleasure. His entire body fizzed and crackled, his legs shook and his arms trembled and his heart careened around in his chest like a hamster in a wheel going nowhere fast.

Suddenly the sweet sensations came to an abrupt end as Moe removed his mouth and hand and loomed above him again, an even darker shape in the darkness. This time the chief moron was licking his lips as though he'd just eaten his fill from the most delicious, luxury banquet. "Told ya you'd scream, didn't I?" he grinned, mischievously.

"Oh God, Moe, what _was _that?" Larry squeaked deliriously.

"_That _is one of life's best kept little secrets," Moe chuckled. He dropped a soft Larry-flavoured kiss on Larry's lips.

Larry stroked his leader's face lovingly. "Yeah, but I still wanna know, where did _you_ learn it?"

"What, ya don't think a smart guy like me knows how ta do stuff without havin' someone to learn it to him?"

"Ya mean 'teach it to him', ya knucklehead," Larry grinned.

"Hey, quit correctin' my grammar," Moe grumbled, delivering a gentle smack to Larry's forehead.

"Okay then, I'll correct your Grampa."

Moe slapped him again. "You know how I hate it when Curly puns, so don't you start."

Larry laughed softly and wrapped his arms around the stubborn Stooge. "C'mere, handsome," he sighed.

Moe grumbled, just as Larry expected he would. But the mental maniac allowed himself to be cuddled, allowed Larry to bundle the sheets around them to create a cosy little love nest for them both.

"I don't wanna flatter ya 'cause you're bigheaded enough already, but that was somethin' else," Larry whispered.

"Glad ya liked it," Moe replied, modestly.

The happy porcupine buried his face in the warm crook of Moe's neck. "Now tell me what I can do for you," he murmured.

"You can shaddap," Moe deadpanned.

Larry's hand began to wander down Moe's body. "No, seriously, Moe."

"Seriously, you can shaddap. What are ya, a dame? Wantin' to talk all night now?"

"Moe, c'mon! The night's barely started." Larry's fingers trailed over Moe's stomach. He knew his leader was rock hard, he just needed to feel it. He felt Moe's whole body tense as he reached his prize, and boy! Was it a prize! Larry bit his lip as he felt the smooth, solid, slightly springy head of Moe's love torpedo. "Oh. My. God," he whispered. "This thing is huge!"

"That's what they all tell me," Moe snickered.

"Where've you been hidin' this all my life?"

Moe smiled, naughtily in the gloom. "Away from gold diggers like you."

"Aww, I ain't no gold digger!" Larry kissed Moe under his chin as he stroked his leader's humongous erection. "I just like to look. And hold. And feel." He left a trail of successive kisses along Moe's jaw as he said each word. His lips searched for that twitching muscle, the one that always jumped in Moe's cheek when the bowl head got mad. If he could just kiss that angry little tic, his life would be complete.

"Well," Moe murmured, his voice going husky, "you're doin' a good job."

Larry chewed his way gently along Moe's jawline. "Oh God, you turn me on," he moaned. "You even smell like cinnamon."

"Quit your yappin' and kiss me," Moe ordered. "Then we can _really_ get down to business."

Larry squirmed under Moe, his mouth falling open as all the strength went out of him. Moe climbed on top of him and deep throated the desperate fuzzball with the hottest, wettest, most passionate kiss he'd ever known in his life. Topping all of Moe's other scorching kisses, which was saying something!

Larry's hands flapped like a baby bird's wings all over Moe's skin, caressing the bowl head's torso, running up and down his stomach before returning to that monstrous weapon that Moe normally kept tucked away safely in his pants. If only Lucille from down the hall could see Moe like this, she certainly wouldn't be laughing at him now! Larry fondled and stroked the chief knucklehead until Moe began whimpering gently against his mouth. Whimpering! Like a puppy! It turned Larry on so much to think his leader was gaining pleasure from his porcupine's ministrations. Moe's sighs of delight were music to his ears, food for his soul, fuel for his mind and his limbs. He wrapped his legs around Moe's waist. He kissed Moe like he'd never kissed anyone before. He tried to mold his whole body against Moe's, all the way down to his toes. He tried to squeeze his atoms inside his beloved's body so that they would become the same person, thinking and moving and loving as one. Porcupine and DynaMoe 4eva, two people in the same body.

Moe finally broke the kiss, leaving Larry with his wet mouth wide and gasping like a fish. He pushed himself up onto his knees. He slapped Larry's hands away from his cock and took hold of it himself. Larry knew what was coming but as much as he wanted it, needed it, yearned for it with every fiber of his being, he was scared of it, too. It tensed him up and made him tight.

"I'm sorry," he found himself saying, and then hated himself for it.

"For what?" Moe'e expression in the semi-darkness was unreadable.

"For not being as good as you," Larry said, and then hated himself even more.

"Quit your yappin', will ya?" Moe grunted.

"I'm sorry," Larry said again.

"You _will_ be," Moe replied. "What do ya think I'm gonna do, bust ya wide open?"

Larry bleated like a baby lamb. "Uh...the thought did cross my mind," he said, his wide eyes fixing on Moe's narrowed ones.

The bowl cut smirked playfully. "Loosen up, porcupine," he smiled. "I'll make it good for ya, don't worry."

Larry shifted on the bed. He knew Moe wanted him to get his legs up in the air. He felt exposed and embarrassed lying on his back and wondered if this was what it was like for girls. "Can't we do it the other way?" he whined.

"Nah, I wanna look into your face," Moe leered. "Y'know, when you come."

"Oh, Jesus, Moe, can't you lay off bein' in charge for _one minute_? Think about other people for a change."

"Oh, ya wanna roll over?" Moe chuckled. "Word of warning, ya goof. That might hurt even more. A guy gets in deeper that way, if ya catch my drift."

"Oh, there's nothing subtle about your drift, Moe," Larry moaned.

"I've had just about enough of your whinin'." Moe reached under Larry, grabbed both of Larry's buttocks in each hand and pulled upwards so that Larry ended up with his knees against his chest. "Alley oop!" Moe cried, triumphantly.

Larry squawked like a baby. "Owowowow! Take it easy, Moe- I ain't made of rubber!"

"That's too bad, because by the time I'm finished with you, you'll wish you were. Now here, hold these." Moe grabbed Larry's hands and put them behind his knees. "There ya go, all trussed up like a Christmas toikey." The bowl head laughed to himself and began slapping Larry's exposed buttocks. "Look at all this tender, juicy meat. Maybe a little on the stringy side, but who's complainin'."

"Oh, oh, oh...I'm not," Larry moaned, thrilled by every stinging slap against his precious butt cheeks. He could feel his throbbing ass going red. His manhood sprang to life again and began to throb in unison as the blood flowed freely into his excited shaft.

Moe crouched low over Larry's groin and began licking and sucking his sac, and then the area behind it, the erogenous zone between his man bits and his glory hole. Larry reached for the pillow again- there was a good chance he was really going to need it this time.

And then Moe went even further. Larry shoved the pillow into his mouth and let loose a volley of moans and groans as Moe cupped his butt like a slice of watermelon and got to work loosening him up with his magic tongue. Holding his knees with one hand and the pillow with the other, and with the chief moron's face planted right up against his ass, the crazed mongoose felt like he'd died and gone to Heaven a thousand times over.

Before long, Moe had loosened him up so much that you could have driven an express train through that tunnel. The bowl cut stopped what he was doing, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, got to his knees behind the whimpering Larry and took a hold of himself. Neither one of them said a word to each other. No wisecracks, no complaints, not even a mutter of satisfaction. There was too much at stake now. Too much too lose. This was the crossroads- the junction where one wrong turning meant screeching to a halt down a dead end filled with obstacles, but taking the right road meant a divine journey down the road of Bliss and ending up in Paradise. It was just a matter of knowing which was the right road...

Moe placed himself at the entrance to that divine road of Bliss and began to push gently.

Larry whimpered and bit down on the pillow. _Please be gentle,_ Moe, he said silently, pleading with anyone inside his head who would listen. _Please don't hurt me, now of all times..._

"Take it easy, porcupine," Moe breathed. "Take it easy...just relax."

Larry removed the pillow just long enough to gasp to Moe that he _was _relaxing.

"Then relax some more, ya blimphead!"

Larry tried, he really did. But Moe was so big...

"C;mon, ya nutcase. It's me, Moe! What'dya think I'm gonna do? Hurt ya?" Moe shook his head, realising what he'd just said. "_Waitaminute_! Okay, look- try this. When I push, you breathe in deep at the same time. Try and draw me into yaself instead of tryin' to get rid o' me."

"O-okay," Larry nodded. "If ya think that'll help."

"Sure it'll help. Now c'mon, breathe. Breathe!"

Larry breathed. He breathed so hard he thought his lungs would pop. But dammit, Moe was right. Larry felt himself relaxing with every deep breath, his body becoming fluid and heavy. As he relaxed, Moe went in a little bit further, then a little bit further more. Larry could hear Moe breathing too, the air rumbling in the bowl head's chest. He looked up at Moe's face. The streetlights threw shadows across his beloved's face, accentuating his cheekbones and revealing that little jaw muscle, twitching just below the skin. Larry tried to look into Moe's chocolate brown eyes but they were lost in darkness, hidden beneath the shelf of Moe's jet black bangs, guarded by the hood of his lowered eyebrows. He knew, however, that Moe was looking into his helpless blue ones, because he could feel them burning into the very depths of his soul.

Larry kept breathing and breathing, trying not to gasp too hard for air. It felt to him as if someone were filling him up with cement, more and more cement until he was almost busting at the seams. How big was Moe anyway? Was he ever gonna stop pushing?

Finally, he did.

Moe hovered over Larry, breathing hard. "Oh, porcupine," he said, almost adoringly. "I knew you weren't a quitter."

"After all this time, you thought I'd run out on ya now?" Larry panted. "You should know me better'n that, Moe."

Moe smiled. He leaned down and kissed Larry softly on the lips. Larry sighed blissfully, opening his mouth to accepted his leader's tongue. He could taste himself all over Moe's mouth and it turned him on so much he felt Moe slip into him one final half inch more. Now the bowl head was completely inside of him- there was no more left to go. A jolt of electricity ran all the way through Larry and bounced through to Moe and the kiss became infused with a passion neither of them had ever felt before.

Moe got to his knees and hooked his arms behind Larry's legs. Then he leaned forward, taking his weight on both hands either side of Larry's shoulders. Larry's thigh muscles screamed in pain as his legs stretched backwards but the fuzzhead ignored the agony, anticipating the pure pleasure that was surely to come as Moe began to rock slowly back and forth on top of him.

Larry let go of the pillow and gripped onto Moe's shoulders, hanging on for dear life. Moe thrust up and in, starting off slowly but then, taking his cue from Larry's enthusiastic whimpering, a little more harder and faster. Larry turned his head and sank his teeth into Moe's arm. The bowl head yelped.

"What'sa matter with you, porcupine?" he muttered.

"I can't help it..." Larry gasped breathlessly as the bed began to squeak. "You're bustin' me up!"

"Yeah? Ain't that what you wanted?"

Larry flung his head back, exposing the pale skin of his throat. "Oh God, yeah, don't stop, don't stop!"

Moe braced his knees against the bed and began thrusting even harder, deeper, faster. Soon he was pistoning in and out like a well oiled machine. Larry let go of Moe with one arm and dragged the pillow into his mouth, cramming in as much as he could.

"Scream, little porcupine," said Moe, hoarsely. "Scream for daddy!"

Larry whipped his head side to side. His frizzy curls tangled up on the bedsheets and stuck to the sweat on his face. Moe grabbed a handful of Larry's hair and sank his teeth into the curve of Larry's neck, just where it met his shoulder. His thrusts became hard, fast and sharp. He bit Larry's neck the way a lion bites a lioness's neck during coitus. To hold him steady, to show dominance. All the while he fucked Larry harder and harder until the pressure building up in both of them threatened to blow the roof of the apartment off.

Moe untangled his fingers from out of Larry's hair, He reached down and grabbed Larry's pulsating member. As he neared his own climax, Moe began to jack Larry off, hard and fast, in rhythm with the thrusts of their coupling. The frantic fuzzball screamed all kinds of noises into the pillow, his eyeballs bulging outwards through paper thin eyelids. Moe was showing no mercy now. The streelights glimmered off his bared teeth, sent the muscles in his cheek dancing. Fapping and slapping noises rang out all around the room until finally, with an almighty shriek into the pillow, Larry shot his load all over himself, all up his stomach and chest and even onto his own face and hair. Sweat poured off him, his arms and legs trembled and shook, every muscle in his body strained to breaking point. If Moe hadn't been on top of him pinning him down, he thought he would have surely flopped off the bed like a goldfish jumping out of its bowl.

Moe gave a series of shallow thrusts in quick succession, then he drove himself as deep as it was humanly possible to drive yourself into someone and climaxed into Larry, throwing his head back in triumph, sounding for all the world like a bull in heat having successfully mated with a cow. Larry thought every bone in his pelvis would crack and break under Moe's brutal, wonderful onslaught. He felt Moe lifting him straight up off the bed, nearly snapping his spine, before dropping on top of him like a stone.

The chief moron lay on top of Larry like a dead weight. A beautiful, sexy dead weight that Larry didn't ever want to crawl out from under. Larry threaded his fingers through Moe's sweat-slicked hair and hugged the bowl cut's head against his. Once again he stroked the short, velvety hairs at the nape of Moe's neck. It did not go unnoticed by either of the loved-up Stooges that the thing that had started all of this off was now the thing that ended it.

Moe sighed with pleasure at the featherlight touch of Larry's fingers stroking the back of his head. "If you were a dame right now I'd be tellin' ya that I loved ya," he mumbled into Larry's bushy frizz.

"Forget about dames," Larry replied. "Why _aren't_ you tellin' me that you love me?"

"'Cause I got more respect for ya, that's why," Moe snorted.

Larry's heart soared inside his chest. So maybe he wasn't gonna get any declarations of love tonight, but Moe Howard's respect was probably the next best thing to love. Hell, maybe it was better than that, maybe love and respect were the same thing to Moe. He wasn't a romantic sap, after all. He kept telling Larry that. And because it was so hard to please the stubborn spittoon head, it meant everything to the demented fuzzbrain that at least he had the chief Stooge's respect. For now, he could be happy with that.

Smiling softly to himself, Larry Fine drifted off into a well earned slumber with Moe Howard held safely in his arms. Nothing and no-one would ever harm his beloved DynaMoe while Porcupine was around!

MLMLML

Larry was roused from his dreamless sleep by Moe frantically shaking him awake. "Again, honey?" the dozy dimwit slurred.

"Get up, stupid! Curly's comin' back, I can hear him comin' up the street! Quick, get dressed, ya dolt!" Moe flung Larry back down and shot off the bed, scrabbling around on the floor for his discarded clothes.

Larry sat up groggily in the bed. "But I like bein' naked," he burbled.

"You want that bunionhead to see ya? Ask what ya bin doin'? Huh? Do ya?" Moe scrambled into his pants.

"If we're gonna get dressed, shouldn't we be in our pajamas?" Larry stated, reasonably.

Moe reached across the bed and smacked Larry across the cheek. "You're right!" he said.

"Then why did you slap me?" Larry complained, rubbing his face.

"Automatic reflex," Moe replied. He tore off his pants again and grabbed his pajamas out from under his pillow. "C'mon, Zippy, whattya waitin' for? Chop chop!"

Larry sighed, got out of bed and took his pajamas out of the dresser drawer. He listened to Curly's tuneless warbling coming up the front stoop of their apartment building. A cat yowled at the hideous noise coming from the fat Stooge. As Larry climbed into his pjs, wincing at the pain that shot through his legs and nether regions (he doubted he'd be able to sit down comfortably for a week) Moe dashed around the room spraying air freshener and opening the window, which promptly dropped down again and clonked him on the back of the head.

"Stop panickin', Moe," Larry grinned, climbing back into bed. "He ain't gonna know anything."

"Are ya kiddin'? It stinks like a cathouse in here!"

"Then we'll tell him the cat came in the window. C'mon, Moe, now it's your turn to relax. Like me, see? Deep breaths, in and out." Larry curled onto his side under the sheets and began breathing gently.

"I'll give you in and out," muttered Moe, spraying air freshener on the fuzzball's head.

"I got news for ya. You already did," Larry giggled. "And boy, am I still feelin' it!"

Curly's footsteps came clumping up the stairs, louder and louder. Moe threw the can of air freshener across the room where it clattered onto the counter, spun around and fell off.

"Sssshhhh!" Moe hissed. He hopped into bed, lay flat on his back like a plank of wood and pulled the covers tight up around his chin. Then he squeezed his eyes shut. "I hope it looks like I've been asleep for hours," the bowl head muttered.

"You don't sleep like that." Larry half turned over, reached back and grabbed Moe's hand. "You sleep on your side. Here. Spoon me." With a giggle, Larry rolled onto his side and pulled Moe with him. He wedged his butt firmly into Moe's groin. "You can be big spoon, I'll be little spoon."

"I'll spoon you, spoonhead," Moe muttered.

"So spoon me already," Larry grinned, wiggling his butt against Moe. "Oh, and don't forget to snore like an old steam train with asthma!"

"Why, you..." Moe began. He lifted his arm ready to slap Larry senseless but suddenly the door flew open and Curly Howard breezed into the room, along with a blast of the cheapest, nastiest perfume either of the two Stooges had ever had the misfortune to smell. Moe buried himself under the sheets and pressed up against Larry. The two Stooges screwed their faces up in the half light as Curly started bustling loudly around the room getting undressed for bed.

"Phew!" Moe hissed into Larry's ear. "And I was worried about what the place smelled like before!"

"It smells like a cheap saloon!" Larry agreed.

"la la leeeeee la la laaaaaa," Curly 'sang', hauling up his gigantic pajama bottoms. Unfortunately he'd put both feet into one leg and as he tried to walk he promptly fell onto the bed on top of Moe.

This gave Moe the perfect excuse to 'wake up'. He reached behind himself and slapped Curly on the head, knowing exactly where the chrome dome would be without even looking. "What's the idea of wakin' me up," he grumbled, trying to sound sleepy.

"Sorry, Moe!" Curly sounded anything but sorry as he climbed into bed beside Moe and drew the sheets up to his neck. "Boy! What a night I've had!"

"Tell me about it in the mornin'," Moe muttered.

"Can't I tell ya now?"

"No!"

"Oh, but..." Curly sounded as if he was sulking. "Hey, Larry! Ya wanna hear what..."

Moe cuffed him again. "Be quiet, the pretzel head's still sleepin'."

Larry dug his elbow into Moe's ribs. Moe shoved his shoulder under the covers. "He's sleepin' like a newborn babe," Moe added, clamping his hand roughly over Larry's mouth.

"Aw, gee, Moe. Well, all right. But you guys sure did miss a dilly of an evening. Trixi took me to a showbiz party and it was wall to wall dames, everywhere ya looked. Goils, goils, goils! Nyuk nyuk nyuk! And some of 'em even liked me!"

"Yeah, and then the lights came on," said Moe. "Now shaddap and get to sleep or I'll moider ya."

Curly huffed and puffed while he busied himself settling his fat frame into bed. Moe and Larry jostled around against each other as the mattress bounced around under the chubby Stooge's weight. Moe clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to turn on Curly and bat his brains out. Larry could be heard faintly giggling, his chuckles audible only to Moe.

"You know what your trouble is, Moe?" Curly said in his ridiculously high pitched voice. "You don't have sex enough."

Larry almost lost it, right there and then. It was lucky Moe's hand was placed firmly over his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut and his frizzy curls bounced with merriment against Moe's face. Behind him, he felt Moe's whole body tense and shake with fury. This only made Larry laugh more.

"And you know what your trouble is?" Moe shouted. "You don't know when to shaddap and go to sleep!"

"See? You're all coiled up like a spring. Ya need ta..."

Curly was pushing it now and that was more than enough to make Moe go ape. He let go of Larry and launched himself at Curly, straddling the big buffoon and slapping him repeatedly on both cheeks, one after the other, with both hands. Larry turned in the half light to watch his beloved slap seven bells out of Curly, sitting astride him like a cowboy on a rodeo bull.

"You knucklehead! You moron! You cabbage brain! You imbecile!" Moe interspersed the cheek slaps with a few forehead slaps. It was like watching someone play the bongoes.

"But, Moe! But, Moe! Woo woo woo woo woo! But, Moe! Ruff! _Ruuffffff_!"

Larry shook his head. He snuggled back down into the blankets while the mayhem continued on beside him. Curly and Moe battering each other was almost like a lullaby to his ears- a noise he was so used to that it actually brought him comfort. And besides, he knew the night was going to have to end sometime. He didn't even know whether he would ever experience another night like that again. Moe was so changeable, so moody. And as for Curly. It had been fortunate that Curly had been out of their way for so many hours. How often did Curly ever date?

Of course, if this Trixi chick actually liked him...

Larry found himself hoping that Curly had actually gotten himself a girlfriend. Maybe that way he'd be out of their hair more often. Thoughts of himself and Moe enjoying night after night of wild passion began seeping into Larry's mind. Larry also found his thoughts were beginning to tumble over one another as he grew sleepy. A couple of times he shuddered as Curly and Trixi invaded his imagination, doing unspeakable things to each other with food.

Finally Moe climbed off Curly and Larry sighed as he felt the bowl head settle in behind him again. "Let that be a lesson to ya," the chief moron muttered to the fat Stooge.

"Hmmmmmmm!" grumbled Curly, sounding anything but apologetic.

Moe snuggled up to Larry. He draped one arm around Larry's waist and pulled him close. "Larry doesn't give me all this crap," he grunted. "Larry does what I tell him to do."

"Well, good for Larry," Curly whined. "That's the trouble wid you two! Ya never do anything widout each other!"

Larry smiled happily to himself as Moe pressed close, hugging him tightly under the covers. He couldn't believe Moe was allowing him to be this close without being slapped or eyepoked. Once more his little heart soared as he felt the bowl head shake as he tried to suppress his laughter. Moe was happy again, and that was all it took to send Larry off to sleep with the biggest, goofiest grin plastered to his big, goofy, loved-up face.

"Brother, you don't know the half of it," Moe said, quietly enough so that only his porcupine could hear him, just before he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
